Coyote's Tale
by silver ruffian
Summary: This is the sequel to Dog Eat Dog. Coyote and the Winchesters declare war against desert skinwalkers. Dean, Coyote, John and Sam encounter evil spirits, giant alligators, vamps, assorted gods and tricksters. Dean goes dark and destroys the world, but it's okay. He put it all back. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe. The usual CoyoteDean weirdness.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: This prologue contains a different verb tense, cussing, weirdness, and one angsty demi-god. The POV in this story shifts between Coyote the Trickster and Dean Winchester. First up is Coyote. The views and opinions Coyote expresses are _not_ those of the author.

Summary: This is the sequel to Dog Eat Dog. Dean/Coyote, Sam and John go to war against the skinwalkers in the desert Southwest.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Darn.

_**Prologue**_

I kept a low profile the first few days out.

_What?_

I wasn't scared. Just..._cautious_.

That Sam kid's just happy to have his big brother back.

_John Winchester?_ I can read him a little better now, but that doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy. He still makes me nervous. Good thing I'm not drivin'. I always feel like backin' up with my tail between my legs whenever he looks at me. For the last twenty years at least, he's made it his life's mission to hunt down and kill things…

Like _me_.

I should be able to forget all _that_. After all he's done, 'specially in the last few days, I should be able to call him Dad. He went to hell willingly for my kid and me. Made a deal with that yellow-eyed bastard even though he knew I was inside his eldest son.

Later on we brought him back from hell. Like the kid said, "What's the sense of being able to do all this if we can't help family, huh?"

So we did. John helped us. Sam did too. They took care'a us when we were sick and dying, when we were all trapped in that bad place. That's what families do for each other, I guess.

I came into this world fully formed. Never had a real family of my own.

Picked up a lot of names through the years. Maquįį, Roamer, Old Man. The Magician, First Artist, God's Dog. First Scolder is one 'a my favorites. I was here in the beginning with the First People, First Man and First Woman.

Nice couple. Ain't too thrilled with some of the stuff they came up with -- that damn Witchery Way, f'example -- but hey, I should talk.

We all have our dark spots.

I know you heard of me. Everyone has.

Name's Coyote.

I've done my share of dying. Got popped enough times when I was four legged. Run over by a rancher's wagon? Hell, I was back by nightfall. Shot through the heart by some bastard with a rifle? No problem. Sometimes I didn't even bother to cross over. Popped the bullet back out and gave the trigger-happy sonofabitch something to remember me by.

Pissed off this ol'_ bruja_ witch over near Las Cruces. She was ugly enough to break day, and I wasn't shy about tellin' her that to her face when she popped the question. Hey, I like sex just as much as the next dog, but I got standards to maintain, and Broom Hilda didn't meet _any_ of 'em.

Next thing I knew I was hanging from a fence completely skinned, with my ears and tail cut off.

Took a little more effort comin' back from that one. I paid her a little visit after I got myself back together. Payback's a bitch. And so am I.

Afterwards I roamed around from place to place, taught a few lessons here and there to high seddity folks who needed to be taken down a peg. I had what I thought was a good life.

Shoulda' known things weren't gonna stay that way.

Started hangin' around two leggers more. Liked the way the females looked. All shapes, colors and sizes. They smelled nice, too. The human pups…well, yeah, they were cute in a helpless, hairless way. No need to get all choked up about them. I could take 'em or leave them.

But that didn't mean I wanted to see them hurt, killed or hungry.

Whatever I decide to do, I do it damn well. I've stolen fire from immortals, borrowed a herd of cattle to keep two leggers warm and fed during the winter. Yeah, I said "borrowed". _Borrowed, stole, found_, it's all the same. Tomato, tomahto. What's the big deal?

Some of those dark things I mentioned before decided to include people in their diet. That pissed me off. I killed a couple of Sasquatch. Got a thunderbird, a giant, even a goat man that wandered down from the Pacific Northwest. Don't laugh. Those sumbitches might look and sound ridiculous, but they're _not_. They always carry axes, or some other really sharp blade. They're vicious 'cause they're so damned ugly. Good thing they travel alone and not in packs. I nearly got my fool head split in two dealing with just the one.

I kept watching the two leggers, and I felt like I was missing something. Felt like a hole inside of me, and nothing I did could fill it up. I tried to have a family of my own, and it didn't matter if I was two legged or four. I screwed it up every damn time.

Everyone I ever loved left me. _Or worse._

That lone wolf crap? Hey, that's for wolves, _not_ coyotes. We run in pairs or packs. We don't do well alone.

I sure in the hell didn't.

Long story short, I went to the Powers That Be and asked to be put in a human body. Figured I'd have a better chance of keeping a family if I did that.

I figured wrong.

My soul was split in two. Halved right down the middle. Coyote and human. Two legged and four. 'm a Trickster, remember? I pretended to be human enough times. I could pour on the charm, talk my way in and out of just about any and everything.

They had enough they could work with. I figured the split didn't really matter because we'd merge back into one later on.

Damn, did I figure wrong.

That was how I ended up inside John and Mary Winchester's newborn son, Dean Michael Winchester.

John and Sam weren't hunters at first. No telling what way they…_we_ would have gone if that damn yellow eyed jackass hadn't shown up.

Mary Winchester. Damn, she was beautiful. She had a…a kind spirit. Just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

John Winchester? Wouldn't know it to look at him, and I sure in the hell would _never_ say this to his face, but he was a big ol' teddy bear in the beginning. He didn't get scary until later…_after_ the fire that killed Mary.

Oh, family life was fine at first. Mom. Dad. Me and the kid. I was content. Didn't try to even try to rush the merge. Why the hell should I? Everything was okay.

I even got a little happy when I found out we were gonna have a baby brother. After the little pup arrived my kid found out he could move things with his mind, and the first thing he did was amuse his baby brother with it. Kid stuff.

One day Dean freaked out on me, thought he'd hurt the pup accidentally, and he decided to lock up everything that was special about himself, and I mean_ everything_, including _me_.

I got walled up.

Like to know where in the hell he learned _that_ trick. Didn't get it from _me. _Shit happens, and don't I know it.

When I came out over twenty-four years later, I came out _mean_.

Me and the kid have had our ups and downs. I pushed hard and he pushed right back. Little brother got caught up in the middle, and I didn't care. Wasn't that fond of him either, at the time. Nearly died several times while we sorted things out. Old Yellow Eye showed up and tried to make some of those deaths permanent. Wasn't due to lack of trying. It was our pleasure to return the favor. Old Yeller's dead and gone now, and I was glad to have a part in it. It was the least I could do for Mary Winchester.

We're on the road right now. Me and the kid. John and Sam. Got family from my past out here. They're in trouble, taken by yenaldooshi. Skinwalkers.

Skinwalkers took from me before, a long time ago. They took my family. Took my life. Now they're back again, and this time they took from us, me and the kid.

Slymm's out there. Lost, alone. They took Redd's soul. My daughter Bertha's husband, Thomas.

The witches who got away went around mouthin' off to the others, just to cover up that we kicked their asses right good and proper, and it turns out that what we did doesn't matter. Means Coyote is fair game for any idiot who wants to make a name for him or her damn self. Heard talk that we'd make somebody a good pet, that we're fuckin' trainable now, _heel sit stay come here boy_ like a good little tame damn dog.

Think we're gonna stand for any of _this_? Better think again.

We left the homestead days ago. Bear promised to keep an eye on Bertha and the place until we get back. He's a kachina, and not many things out here are going to knowingly go head to head with a kachina. I almost feel sorry for that time I tricked him about those fish in that river.

I said _almost_.

Sun's out; it's a good day for a hunt. I sense something familiar at the same time Dean does, and the kid stops his horse, sits still in the saddle.

John and Sam follow our lead.

John doesn't react when Dean's eyes go yellow. No sideways glance; he doesn't tense up. Sam takes it all in, just as casual as can be, like the idea of a trickster inside his big brother is no big deal and Sam's known about it all his life, instead of just two weeks ago.

Don't know _what_ I'd do if they did react badly. Don't even know why I'm being such a damn girl about all this.

We can sense Thomas. Faint, but it's _him_. He's trapped inside his own body, but he's fighting the bastard that took him, not making it easy. Good. _Hang in there, bro'. We're coming. _

They were lost because of us. Thomas and Redd and Slymm. Now we're gonna bring them _all_ home, safe and sound.

And kill as many evil sonsabitches as we possibly can.

I'm still nervous around Sam and John, but they're _here_. Didn't have to make this their fight, but they _did_. That's what family does for each other.

I got two families now, past and present. They're broken and kinda messed up but they're all I got in this world. They're _mine_, and that's more than enough.

We all have a part to play in this, and I ain't screwing up. Not _this_ time.

Let's see if this old dog can still hunt.

_**000 **_

Okey dokey. There you have it. Don't be shy; let me know what you think.

Next up: Dean's POV. The boys get sidetracked at a roadside joint run by a long-dead serial killer. We got angst. And alligators.


	2. Bloodsuckers' Banquet

_**Chapter 1 – Bloodsuckers' Banquet **_

A/N – I originally intended for this to be a short lead-in to the alligators and the angst, but Dean had other plans, so I blame him for this. This chapter is from his POV. The alligators and the angst will be in the chapter after this one, but there's a whole lotta Dean angst in this chapter too. Also violence, cussing and the usual brand of weirdness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, darn it!

_**000**_

Everything happens all at once, just like it always does when the shit hits the fan.

Biker Dude charges at us, low and fast, just as Sam pops the lock on the pen and slips inside. The Old Man's growlin' inside my head as I turn around and kick out with my left leg. Coyote paces back and forth, restless. The hair on his back's standing straight up.

He's ready to kill something, and so am I.

My boot catches the biker right in the chest, knocks him backwards, and that's when I notice the rest of them, standing in a semi-circle between me and the barn door. The sonsabitches look at my Colt semi-automatic as I raise it two handed and just about bust a gut laughing. On a vamp hunt that's like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Biker Dude grins as he backpedals and drops his fangs, like the rest of 'em do. He's a big freakin' dude, bald headed, with a neck and arms as thick as tree trunks. It was a test, a move made just to see how quick I'd react. I fake looking surprised and I take a step back, like I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Behind me the door to the pen clicks shut, and I relax a little. Sam's locked in there now, but believe me, none of these bastards are getting past me.

None of them.

"You're brothers, aren't you?" the girl wearing the Beck t –shirt whispers. She's cute, if you like undead chicks. Spiky red hair, skin-tight jeans. Never was into necrophilia, but hey, call me provincial. She sniffs the air, runs the tip of her tongue slowly over her bottom lip. "Pretty little hunter boys."

I roll my eyes. "Bitch, please." Aiming the Colt at her head's about as good a place as any. Won't do me any good, and we both know it.

Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure _this_ one out. T Shirt Chick turns Biker Dude (a Hell's Angel, no less). They turn the two college kids (brother and sister, I can smell the family connection) and they all decide to set up housekeeping at Farmer John's place. That's it for Farmer John and his wife. They become part of this sick little crew just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shit happens like that. It happens a lot.

If they'd played it smart, they could've settled in, nice and comfortable, and no one would have noticed. Out to the highway to pick up someone to eat, or they could've just waited, suckered in a carload of unsuspecting normals.

I can see Farmer John now, his fingers hooked into his overalls: _Aw shucks, we're all just plain folks here. Don't mind the teeth, son. We don't bite. Much._

You can't judge a book by its cover. Nobody knows _that_ better than _me_.

This bunch? They got stupid instead. Got greedy and went after that busload of kids. That's how we spotted 'em. Hunting life's like that sometimes. Sometimes the jobs just fall right into your lap.

Vamps sleep during the day, but that doesn't mean they won't wake up. You think you're safe in the sunlight? Think again. Direct sunlight gives 'em a nasty sunburn, and that's _all_. As Dad would say, the stuff you've seen in the movies is a load of crap.

Got my targets already picked out. Biker Dude's an easy read, most likely to rush in first again, but I can't overlook any of 'em, not even Farmer John's wife in that red flowered sundress.

I can hear Sam in the pen behind me, as he moves from kid to kid, talks to them, makes sure they're all right. Well, as all right as anyone can be in a screwed up situation like this. I rag on him about it all the time, but Sam's in his element with that emo stuff. All he's got to do is blink those puppy dog eyes of his, flash that sincere smile of his and people immediately relax. I never had much use for feelings or chick flick moments. Try to avoid 'em whenever I can.

Twelve kids, two adults in there, the bus driver and the monitor. No telling what they saw before we showed up. Finding out that shadows have teeth and there really are monsters out there in the light can really fuck with your head. I wish I could do something about that. No kid should have to live knowing _that_, including Sam.

The only thing I can do about it is kill as many of the evil bastards as I can.

"Hey, beautiful," T Shirt Chick chirps, and I smirk at her. "You wanna see somethin' that's _really_ frightening?"

"Why sure, darlin'," I drawl lazily. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

Her toothy grin deepens, gets even wider, from ear to ear, almost like a shark's maw. "I see dead people," she sings out.

"Oh, brother." Dad snorts in disbelief as he steps out in the open from behind the yellow school bus. He holds his machete relaxed and easy, the blunt edge of the blade barely touching his shoulder.

Dad winks at me. It's clear. These six are all there are. They're trapped in the barn.

Trapped in the barn with _us_.

Time to go to work.

My eyes go yellow as I get rid of the Colt and fill my hand with a long double-bladed war machete. Saw it on a website once, can't remember where. It reminded me of Darth Maul's lightsaber. Didn't know at the time that I'd be able to make one out of thin air.

I'm growling, Coyote's growling. Biker Dude snarls in response and comes charging at me again, just like I hoped he would.

He takes a swipe at me and I lean back out of the way. I flick one end of the blades forward and I cut him diagonally down the front of his body, across his left bicep, then I twist my wrist and stripe his right bicep. We jab and slash at each other, each one trying to get the upper hand. He's trying to bull his way in, and I won't let him. If he gets me in a bear hug, pins my arms down to my sides, T Shirt Chick will latch onto me, and there's no way in hell I'm gonna allow _that_.

I pivot around him, bring the double blades up in a twirling motion, loose but controlled, and I cut a line all the way around the base of his head. It doesn't even slow him down, and he actually laughs.

Farmer John and his wife swing around to confront Dad. They're growling and snarling and grabbing at him, and Dad's blocking and slashing with his machete. They can't back away from him, not now, and the brother and sister separate. The boy goes for Dad, and the girl makes a beeline straight for me.

The barn blurs around me and I can feel sand beneath my feet. I'm barefoot. There's moonlight overhead instead of sunlight coming through the hayloft; I can't sense Sam or see Dad anymore. I hear shrieking and snarling as I lose myself in the motion with the long blade. Overlaid over the images of the vamps I can see red-eyed shadows with teeth that howl as I split the air around them with silver and steel.

Sometimes the lines between me and Coyote blur like that.

Past echo intruding on present life? Hell if I know. The only thing I care about is when I come back to myself, Dad's standing in the middle of a pile of heads and bodies. T Shirt Chick's and the college girl's heads have parted company from their shoulders.

Biker Dude is still standing.

Coyote raises up, and the fur on his back stands straight up as his tail bushes out. He growls at me, S_top playin' around with this bastard and put 'im down!_

_Wait for it._

Gigantor swipes his fingers at the thin line of blood across his neck, and he laughs at the sight of his own blood. "Lousy punk. _That all you got_? Gonna make you my bitch."

What the hell do you think you're _doin'_, kid?

_I said wait for it. I'm not done yet._

"Geez, you really think you got the balls for _that_?" I look all wide-eyed and innocent, and that pisses Biker Dude off. He lunges at me and his left arm falls off first, then his right. Dude's eyes go blank as his head slowly slides off his neck and falls onto the barn floor.

_Now_ I'm done.

**_000_**

Before Sam brings everyone out of the pen Dad and I heap the heads and bodies into one pile and cover the whole damned thing with a tarp. Some of the kids are as young as eight years old, and we figure they've seen enough bad shit for one day.

The bus monitor's a middle-aged lady with a long silver ponytail, and she gives Dad and me the fish eye like she thinks we're just a big a threat as the vamps were. We're standing there with bloody machetes in our hands and I don't think that makes for a good first impression.

I'm still not prepared when the driver, a big rawboned older dude with a short grey crew cut comes up and sticks his hand out towards me. I can "read" him as soon as I lay eyes on him: Ex-Marine. Four Oh Company, out of Da Nang. Served two tours of duty in 'Nam. Left a section of his small intestine over there.

His grip is firm, and he looks me right in the eye. He does the same thing with Dad, and Dad nods in recognition. From one old Devil Dog to another. Semper Fi.

School bus is good to go; the radio works and we know the driver is going to call it in as soon as they get far enough away. We salt and burn the carcasses behind the barn and we're mounted up and long gone by the time the first flashing lights appear on the horizon.

_**000**_

Turns out that was the high point of the day. We stop sensing Thomas' presence several hours later, and it's all downhill from there.

Two choices in a case like this: we can run around like chickens with our heads cut off, or stay frosty and work a search pattern. We decide to head for high ground and see what we can pick up from there. It's like channel surfing; that's the only way I can describe it.

Dad and Sam follow my lead, and I'm not sure how I feel about Dad doing that. Spent years on the road with him telling me what to do. Now I'm taking point and I don't know what to do with myself. Feels right and wrong all at the same time.

Dad dismounts, checks the saddle and girth of his red roan. He's got that same intense look he always has whenever he's checking the Impala, or his truck, or our weapons stash, but he seems different somehow now. He's quiet inside, like everything's settled. Mom's gone, but that yellow-eyed bastard's dead. Sam and me and Coyote saw to that. We're all Dad has to live for now, and it seems to be enough for him. If I didn't know any better I'd swear he was at peace.

Never even thought about life without him before. That last year was hell, no pun intended. I always figured I'd die first, on a hunt that went south. Or we'd go out together while hunting, if things got really fucked up.

What finally happened, with Dad making a deal with that damn thing to save me? Never saw that one coming. I feel awkward besides. Dad spent a year in hell because of me. One of the demons who tortured him knew Coyote – knew _me_ – in another time. If that isn't past life coming back to bite you square on the ass I don't know what is.

I can't mention that to Dad. I won't.

Up on the hillside there's enough grass to graze the horses, and a large crooked tree that provides enough cover from the sun overhead. Not many people living in the area we're in. We pick up snatches of conversations from cars traveling down the highway, overhear people using their cells, reminding each other to pick up milk and groceries and other stuff on their way home from work. There's a ranch about twenty miles to the east. Somebody named Tony has screwed up for the last time, and the ranch foreman tells him to pack his shit and _git_.

Like I said, mundane, normal stuff. If they knew what was _really_ out there, lurking in the edges just inside daylight, they'd all go silent. Scared shitless.

I smile a little when we pick up the school bus driver's voice as he talks to the cops.

"…nossir, there were three of 'em, and they saved our asses. I don't give a damn if you don't believe me. Can't tell this story any other way…"

Sam sits down underneath the tree next to Dad. He's never been on a horse before, either. I have, when we were kids. Moving around from place to place, some of the people Dad knew owned farms or ranches. Riding horses came natural to me, just like driving cars did. Sam never showed any interest in horses or cars or anything like that.

I wonder if I did the right thing, lettin' them come out here with me. I could've left them back at Bertha's place, or confined in the kiva while Coyote and I hunted. Bear even suggested it to me, and he seemed surprised when I said I'd pass.

"_My Dad_." I quirked an eyebrow at the big bear dude. "_On lockdown_. No thanks. I don't wanna see_ you_ get hurt."

It was Bear's turn to look startled.

In my family we don't talk about stuff so much, especially when it comes to the job. I can always count on Sammy to start up a chick flick moment, but otherwise we do the job and we shut up about it.

Sam and Dad know Coyote and me laid hands on them before we left. They both know how to ride now. They don't get tired as easily. I wonder how they both feel about that. Does Dad think I turned them something like the things we hunt? Does Sam resent my taking normal away from him? Where we're headed is bound to get worse. I know it. They're gonna need every advantage we can give them to make it out in one piece. Me and the Old Man will protect them as much as we can. We'll die protecting them. There's no doubt of that.

After two hours of drawing nothing but a big fat goose egg Coyote curls up in the headspace with his nose resting in his tail. I can sense what's going on, 'cause I feel the same way. We're both frustrated as hell.

I give him a good hard poke in his left rear flank.

_Hey._

_Quit it_. He growls, lifts his upper lip, bares his teeth at me.

I poke him again, a little softer this time.

_Said quit it. Damn pup. Lemme the hell alone. _

_We're gonna find them. Thomas and Redd and Slymm. You know that, right?_

Coyote stares into space for a moment, then sighs. The fur of his tail ruffles as he blows out a breath. _Yeah._

"How you boys holding up?" Dad rumbles, and I manage not to startle as I come back to myself. I didn't even realize I was standing out in the open, away from them. Dad squints in the sunlight. He's standing beside me, and I didn't even notice when he walked up beside me.

"Okay, I guess." I shade my eyes as I glance up at the sun overhead. "It'll be dark soon. There's a cabin less than a quarter mile away."

"Uh, son," Dad says quietly. "About the cabin. Sam and I both appreciate it, but you don't have to do that every night."

"No sir, I do." I stare at Dad deadpan. "I hate camping."

Dad looks startled for a moment, then he grins a little. "Yeah, so do I."

_**000**_

It's one of the nicer cabins we've ever been in.

Me and Coyote made sure of _that_.

Place has three beds, plenty of food and water, running and otherwise. And electricity. We put protection runes in the ground, the walls, floors and ceilings, even in the railings and underneath the corral for the horses.

I'm still getting used to some of the stuff I can do now. One thing I _won't _do is manifest a person. That kind of thing freaks me out. Yeah, I know it comes with the territory, being a Trickster and all. I did create people back in that town, but I was sick, out of my head when I did it, and Sam and Bobby got the worst of it. All the more reason for me to avoid doin' that kind of crap.

Drawing weapons out of thin air? Now _that's_ sweet. I can fill my hand with anything I want. Rambo's machine gun. Dirty Harry's .44 Magnum. One of these days I might try for that Darth Maul lightsaber. _That _would be wicked cool.

This life does has its perks, after all.

I try again later on, cast around for some sign of Thomas, Redd or Slymm. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Sun's burning its way down past the horizon, and I'm not really surprised when Sam walks up next to me and leans against the corral railing. My big black mare brushes by my knee, and I run my hands over her back, down over the protection sigil on her flank.

"You know I'm not gonna stop asking you," Sam says quietly.

"Asking me what?"

Sam shrugs. "How it feels. How you can do all this. " He looks round as he takes it all in. "I've never been on a horse before. Now I can ride like I've been doing it all my life. I'm not sore, either, and I should be."

_Here it comes_, I think to myself.

"Is this how it is for you now?"

My mare pushes her nose against my hand until I run my fingers through her forelock.

Only thing I can do is nod quietly.

"You ever gonna let me talk to Coyote?"

Inside my head the Old Man gets to his feet, pricks his ears up.

"Hell no." There's no heat in my voice, and Sam understands. "Now why would you wanna do something like that?"

"He's a legend, Dean. You are too. Don't roll your eyes at me like that, bro'. Besides, we already talked before."

"Oh? You did?"

"Yep."

"What'd he say?"

Sam laughs. "Stop shooting your brother."

Huh. That wasn't what I expected to hear, and I snort-chuckle. "That's sound advice."

We stand there for a moment, then Sam straightens up. "I know whatever you did, whatever you're doing for us, it's to protect us. You always have. You're worried about us, about me and Dad."

"I'm worried? And you know this how, Dr. Phil?"

Sam smirks. "I've known you all my life, dude. You're an open book." He brushes his hands against his jeans. "Well, anytime you wanna talk..."

"I'll take a rain check on that one, Samantha."

"Yeah, I figured you _would_, Deana."

_**000**_

I stay outside leaning against the corral as the moon rises above me and the shadows deepen all around me.

Something is coming. We can both feel it.

I don't react as the woman fades into view on the opposite side of the corral. The horses react; they stamp their feet and whinny, bunch up close together on the opposite side of the corral, as far away from her as they can.

I don't need to turn around to look at the cabin behind me. The lights are on, and I can see Dad and Sam sitting at the table. Dad with his journal, Sam with his laptop.

Whatever this is will have to go through us to get to them.

I can see right through her. She's young, about Sammy's age. Her wavy red hair's pulled back into a ponytail. She has a waitress uniform on, light pink, with a short white apron tied around her waist. She's got on flat black sensible shoes.

Her name tag says "Jenny."

She looks at me with a mixture of sadness and shyness and fear, She's pale, but that's not from the moonlight overhead.

For a moment I see her as she really is: torn and bloody, a remnant from some slaughterhouse. Her eyes go blank, her mouth is stretched open in a silent scream. Half her left leg up to her thigh's been ripped off. I see white bone and guts. Half her right torso is gone. I can sense toothmarks all over her, in her bones and her skin.

She's dead, but she's restless. And she's here for a reason.

_**000**_

The boys gets sidetracked at a roadside joint run by a long-dead serial killer, which leads to increased tension between Dean and Coyote.


	3. Eaten Alive

_**A/N:**_ There actually was a serial killer in Texas back in the 1930s who allegedly kept his alligators well fed. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. This installment contains weirdness, violence, cursing (thanks, Dean!) and Winchester angst.

Disclaimer: Don't own Dean, John, Sam or even Coyote.

POV: Dean Winchester

_**Chapter 2 – Eaten Alive**_

…_Juh…oh...allll…_

Jenny's lips move real slow, but I can't make out what she's saying. I've heard it somewhere before but I can't get it and that's pissin me off, so I just stand there and stare at her.

Yeah, not the smartest thing I've ever done.

I ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

…_what the hell d'ya think you're doin' , kid, lettin' her inside your head like that? You gotta be more careful, you damn fool…_

I ignore Coyote yelling inside my head.

Damn, my wrist hurts.

_…he smells like beer but he always does, even when he's sober, please don't do this, let go of me, please let go of me…_

The pain in my wrist travels up my arm, makes my jaws lock. Bones snap bright and quick like dry twigs and that's when I decide enough is friggin' enough. I'm taking on the injuries Jenny suffered when she died. Getting ripped apart limb from limb is _not _my idea of a good time. My eyes flash yellow and I push it all away. I'm not too gentle about it, and Jenny blinks out completely like somebody pulled the plug on her. That startles the horses even more. They bunch up on the opposite side of the corral, snorting and stamping their feet.

Son of a bitch…

My right wrist is broken. My skin's gone purplish black, covered with large dark fingerprints and feeling the bones in my wrist grate against each other is something I could have well done without.

Shit.

Never should have opened myself up to her like that. Like I said, I'm not too thrilled with all the stuff I can do now. Sometimes it's useful, but usually it's a pain in the ass.

The bruises fade as I heal myself and Coyote keeps right on bitchin' at me --

…_stupid pup…dumbass…_

--until I snarl at him to shut the hell _up_. _Right. NOW_.

Dad and Sam haven't even looked out to see where I am, so all this must've lasted only a few seconds. I'm damn glad Sam didn't see this. I can hear it now: _What's the matter, Haley Joel, you couldn't handle one restless spirit?_

When I go back inside I act like nothing happened. Don't want to worry anybody. I screwed up and got spanked for it. Lesson learned. It's over. It's done.

Thinking like that was my _first_ mistake.

_**000**_

_pleaseGodplease I should have known better than to try to leave…_

I'm asleep in bed, I _know_ I am –

_I'm sorry I'm sorry, please don't do this, don't --_

Sam's asleep, Dad's snoring, heard those sounds all over the country, all my life --

_Just like all the others, oh God please, I won't tell, I won't –_

I can't pull myself out of this. My throat's raw from screaming.

…_please don't please please…_

I can't fucking wake up. Coyote's sleeping peacefully in the headspace. That lets me know that this is mine and mine alone.

…_over the railing…oh God there's eyes in the water eyes and teeth…_

I open my eyes and just stare into space for a moment. Takes me a few seconds to realize I'm lying on my side staring at Sam's bed.

Sam's _empty_ bed.

No big deal. He got up in the middle of the night to take a leak. That's it. Gotta be. My eyes refocus when I blink again and across Sam's bed I see Dad right then. He's awake, raised up on one elbow, staring right back at me. He always wakes up whenever he hears any noise. A lot of things in our lives have changed, but_ that_ didn't at least.

Coyote wakes up grumbling and cursing. _What the hell…can't get a decent night's sleep in this place…damn family 'bout ready to run me crazy…_

That's when it hits me. Everybody's awake.

_Aw, crap._ Never used to have bad dreams, at least I don't think I did. Never could remember what they were when I woke up, but as far as I know I never woke up screaming or anything girly like that. I'll never hear the end of this.

The corners of Dad's mouth twitches like he's holding something in and his shoulders shake slightly. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and then he slowly cuts his eyes upward.

I follow his line of sight and damn near fall out of bed.

Sammy might not be in his bed, but he didn't go far.

He's floating six feet _over_ his bed. In mid-air.

The covers have slipped off him, and he's slobbering and moaning as he hugs his pillow with both arms. He's on his belly, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He's in a happy place.

A very, _very _happy place, if you get my drift.

I get a flash of long wavy blonde hair and Smurf pj's when I look at him. He's dreaming about Jess.

Oh-kay.

"Uh…boys?"

"Dad…it's not us."

Coyote's ears prick up as he catches sight of Sam and the damn furball grins so wide his tongue hangs out_. Daamnn. When was the last time this boy got laid?_

Sammy groans again and plays major suck face with his pillow.

Dad's losing the battle to keep a straight face 'cause his shoulders start shaking even more. Sam's hips jerk forward and he comes down hard, hits the bed with a loud thump. His head jerks up and around like a friggin' bobblehead doll. His hair's all over his head and he's blinking all wide-eyed like he just can't understand what just happened.

Dad, Coyote and me lose it._ Completely._

And all I can think of is I couldn't get my damn camera phone out in time.

_**000**_

Didn't get much sleep for the rest of the night. Had bad dreams.

With teeth.

Sometimes I was four-legged, small and furry. I tried biting the hands that grabbed me but nothing I did worked. And it all ended in water, and something in the water killed me, each and every time.

Jenny stands by the railing, all bloody and torn, and she watches me with those sad eyes of hers, over and over again.

_**000**_

Next morning Sam has _That Look_. That "I've Got the Weight of the World On My Shoulders" look. He won't look me or Dad in the eye. He's freaking out, and trying hard not to show it, and this time it's all because of _me_. Cue the violins and the misty rainfall, but we're burnin' daylight and we don't have time for him to stare moodily out the cabin window, so at first Dad and I do what we've always done.

We ignore what happened last night, at least for the moment.

We pack, up our stuff, shower, eat, and saddle the horses, and we're outta here. I wait until we're half a mile away before I get rid of the cabin and the horse corral.

Ordinarily I'd start ragging on Sam, keep asking him "Okay, dude, spill it. I want details. Who was she?" I'd piss him off, annoy the hell outta him, anything to get him out of that mood. Can't do that this time. He was dreaming about Jess. Hey, I'm not Mr. Sensitive, but I'm not going to try to cheer Sam up by teasing him about his dead girlfriend. Hey, give me some credit.

Besides this is my own damn fault. Never mind Dad telling me that if Sam went darkside, if I couldn't save him, I'd have to kill him. When I gave Sam and Dad the ability to ride horses, I also amped up their strength so they could defend themselves against the suckers we're out here hunting. Apparently I woke something up inside Sam that he thought he'd never ever have to deal with again.

Shit. Why the hell didn't I think about that when I did it?

So we ride along in silence at first. Sam tries to drop back behind me and Dad, but we're not gonna let him get away with that. We pull our horses up so that all three of us are walking along together. Walking is good. I'm in no hurry.

I got a bad feeling about what we're doing, and the direction we're going in.

I felt something the night Jess died. I never told Sam or anyone else about that. It was like a strong pull in Sam's direction, like we were connected by a thread I couldn't see. I knew I had to follow it, and I also knew that whatever I found when I got there was going to be bad. Really, really bad.

Felt the same way the day Thomas, Redd and Slymm disappeared. I knew where they were, and I could tell you the exact moment when that thread or whatever was cut.

I'm following a faint echo that feels and sounds like Thomas. It's not words, not exactly. This isn't the same, and I don't trust it.

I think we're being played.

Coyote wants to follow this thing for as long as we can. He's hunkered down inside the headspace. He's usually pretty quiet, if you can believe it. I should have realized something was up. That was my _second_ mistake.

I rein in just enough to let Sam get alongside me. "You're not going darkside, Sammy."

"You reading my mind now?" Sam's shoulders slump. Right then and there I want to resurrect Old Yeller and kill his sorry ass over and over again for fucking with my baby brother's head.

"Nope. Don't have to. You're an open book, 'bro. You going dark just ain't gonna happen."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, for one thing, you're afraid of clowns." I shrug. "Now who the hell ever heard of a big bad who's afraid of Ronald McDonald?"

All that tension in Sam's face finally goes away. It's good to hear him laugh, finally, but Jenny's voice echoes inside my head just then. No slow-motion, just real-time. She's clear as a bell, and I finally get it.

…_Joe…Ball…_

Coyote growls softly inside my head, and I ignore him.

My third mistake. The third time is well and truly the charm.

"_Eaten Alive_. Tobe Hooper. Son of a bitch!" My mare throws her head back and bitches at me for stopping short like that. She quiets down a little when I stroke her neck. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean it."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Eaten Alive? What's that all about?"

My girl is still a little pissed off at me and she doesn't calm down completely until I dismount and stroke her neck some more. "Excuse me, Mr. Peabody. I forgot that your encyclopedia of weird does not include all things popular and cultural."

Sam huffs. "If I'm Mr. Peabody does that make you Sherman?"

"Huh. You wish. Anyway. _Eaten Alive_. 1977 horror flick, directed by Tobe Hooper. Starred Neville Brand, Stuart Whitman, and Robert Englund. Also known as _Legend of the Bayou_, and _Death Trap_ in the UK. Some eggheads over there tried to prosecute the movie as being obscene. Didn't work."

Even Dad looks puzzled. "And?"

"It's based on the life of Joe Ball. The Alligator Man. The Butcher of Elmendorf."

_Damn, why didn't I see all this before?_

"Dude ran a roadside joint called the Sociable Inn. He had a pond filled with five pet alligators in back of the place. Used to put on a show every night. Charged admission so folks could see him throw dogs and cats to the 'gators."

_…eyes in the water, rough bumpy skin underneath my paws…my hands…can't catch my breath as it rolls me around over and over and the water turns blood red…_

"About twenty people, including some of his ex-wives and employees, disappeared. They never found the victims' bodies. Handyman claimed later on he helped ol' Joe feed 'em to the alligators."

I'm babbling. Running off at the mouth and Dad and Sam are looking at me like I've got a screw loose. Maybe I do.

We're on a hillside overlooking the highway, and the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up, stiff and painful. I don't need to turn around, not just yet. Got all the confirmation that I need that something weird's going on behind my back down below just by looking at Sam and Dad. They sit their horses for a moment, staring, then Dad dismounts first, slowly, carefully. I've seen him move like that before, just before we go hunt some evil bastard down.

I turn around just then, look down at the desert next to the highway, and why the hell am I _not_ surprised?

The Sociable Inn fades into view, like a mirage at first. I can see right through it at first, but not for long. That blue neon sign overhead blinks once, twice, then turns itself on.

"Dean?" Sam says slowly.

I shake my head. "It's not me."

_**000**_

"On any other day this might seem strange." I do my best Nic Cage impression, my man Cameron Poe from _Con Air_, and as always, Sam just doesn't get it. He gives me this blank look and I start wondering if maybe we really are related after all. Maybe Dad found him wrapped up in a blanket in the backseat of an abandoned car or something, brought the little snot home for him and Mom to raise 'cause they felt sorry for him.

"Dude. Nicholas Cage? _Con Air_?"

Sam shakes his head.

"You remember Mr. Peabody and Sherman, but you don't remember Nicholas Cage in _Con Air_?"

Sam scoffs. "I saw _Captain Corelli's Mandolin_."

I stare at him in horror. "Who _are_ you?"

I take a step forward, towards the edge of the slope to get a better look. At least, I try to. All my muscles lock up, stiff and painful. I can't move.

He's forcing me back inside and I can't stop him.

"Dean?"

"D-Dad?"

I reach out blindly, grab onto Dad's arm and clamp down so hard I can feel Dad stagger.

_Enough of this shit. We got to talk, boy_, Coyote growls roughly, and everything around me flares bright yellow.

_**000**_

Next: A whole lotta Coyote angst and treachery from a familiar source.


	4. False Positive

_**Chapter 4 – False Positive**_

A/N: And now, a brief interlude featuring one majorly pissed off Coyote.

Disclaimer: Don't own John, Dean, Sam or Coyote. Darn.

_**000**_

_He doesn't care about us the way you do, Old Man…_

Bad dreams these last couple'a nights. Blood and death and family and I want to wake up but I can't.

Being wide awake ain't exactly been all sunshine and roses, either.

The kid won't listen to me.

_He's got his family with him__,_ Thomas whispers inside my head. _His father and his brother.__ He doesn't care about you and yours. _

He let that dead bitch inside his head, and he wouldn't listen to me so I dragged him back inside with me.

_Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole my ass._

"We back to this again, huh?" Dean just stands there with his back against the tree. His legs are shaky and I can see the weakness in his eyes. He can barely lift his head up, and that suits me just fine. I'm his mirror image now, but he's weak and I'm strong.

Lightning flashes overhead. Thunder rolls. He's pissed off, but so am I.

"That Jenny girl is dead and gone. Those school kids, these others, they're not family. Think you forgot _who_ we're out here for. W_hy_ we're out here. Redd and Slymm. Thomas and Bertha. You and Sam. And…and John. _They're_ family. _Not_ those others. Can't save everybody. Don't want to."

The boy shakes his head slowly. "It's not Thomas."

"Shut up."

"It's not Thomas."

"I said shut the hell up!" I grab him by the collar of that long brown duster of his, slam him back into the tree. I don't wanna hear any of that crap. His eyes widen as soon as I touch him. He sees what I've been dreamin' the last couple nights, and I don't give a damn anymore.

_Slymm covered in her own blood, snarling as they back her into a corner._

_Redd lying dead on the ground. That wolf witch bastard stands over her, laughing. "They call you The Magician, Roamer." He draws back his foot and kicks her hard in the side. Her ribs snap like dry brittle twigs._

_I can't move._

_I want to rip his fucking heart out, and I can't move._

_He laughs and kicks her again. Harder. Her body jumps off the ground even higher and collapses face down in a boneless heap. " Not much magic now, is there?"_

It's Redd's turn now, and she purrs softly in my ear. "You listen to that boy, and he's made you weak, Cere. You're his pet now, a tame little trickster dog. You gave up on us, but it's okay. It's all right. We forgive you."

The boy's eyes flash dark gold, and I'm too close, too slow. His foot slams into the back of my legs and my feet go out from under me. I hit the ground on my back, and when I do I get the wind knocked outta me.

And something else too. The clouds overhead disappear and the wind dies down.

The kid slides down with his back against the tree trunk and he grunts as his ass hits the ground. "Hear that?" His eyes fade back to a pale light green. "You really think Redd would say something like that? She wouldn't. She wouldn't, 'cause that's not her."

Damn.

Fucking witches can imitate human and animal voices. Oldest trick in the book. Hell, I helped write the damn book.

It's _not_ Thomas. _Not_ Redd. Me and the boy weren't supposed to dream the same thing. Divide and conquer.

Tricks for the tricked.

And I fell for it.

We stay like that for a few moments. He closes his eyes, leans his head back against the tree. I lie there on my back feeling like a damn fool, the king of stupid.

The kid huffs. "So," he grumbles finally. "You just gonna lie there and wallow all night like some emo chick?"

"Yeah."

"_Bzzzt!_ Way wrong answer, princess. Get up. Now."

"What?"

"Come on, move it. Get your – my -- oh hell, _our _ass in gear. We can hear 'em. Means they're probably close. Stop feelin' sorry for your damn self and move it. _Now."_

_**000**_

There are five of the bastards.

A snake, a wolf. Owl and a damn rabbit and a mountain lion. They're all crouched together in a circle, in a cave about two miles away. I see painted skin, grey and brown fur. Scales. They sing protection prayers backwards to keep the circle protected, and the snake coils on the ground in the center of the circle. The circle's blood-stained sand and bare skulls picked clean.

None of it belongs to Redd or Thomas or Slymm. That's about the only thing I'm grateful for.

I stand in the shadows right behind them, and they still don't see me.

"You always do that, Old Man. You always let them take from you. Second time for you, isn't it?" The snake's voice sounds just like Thomas.

Not for long. I reach out with my mind and twist his head off like a bottle cap.

I light up the darkness around me. They don't like the light. Too fucking bad.

They don't try to fight. Everybody scatters instead, each one trying to peel off in opposite directions.

The entrance to the cave slams shut and that's when I get down to business.

I don't fill my hand with a gun. No weapons. Not my style. Everything's up close and personal now, and I want to make them suffer. I reach inside their skulls and their eyes bulge as I start ripping thir minds apart. I don't find what I'm looking for. They don't know where my lost family is. Can't even backtrack, follow the trail back to where they came from in the first place.

I bust heads wide open, fry nervous systems down to black ash.

I leave bits of fur and skin and bone scattered all over the damn place. It's bloody and it's something I would'a done way back in the day. I'm marking my territory, giving notice.

_Here I am. Don't fuck with me._

Last thing I do is burn the circle, the blood and the bones. Whoever they are deserve to rest in peace.

Five less of these bastards to deal with. That's something, anyway.

_**000**_

I open my eyes and it's deja fucking vu all over again. We're back on the hillside, the sun's setting overhead, and down below by the highway that neon blue sign – _Sociable Inn _– is attracting normals like flies to a spider's web. They pull onto the parking lot of that damn place just begging to be slaughtered. Or worse.

I know where we're heading next.

John Winchester sits on the ground holding me in his arms. Sam looms overhead, and I don't like the looks on their faces.

If I'd seen hate in their eyes, hate for what they think I did to their son, their brother, I could deal with that. Instead I see worry and concern, for me and the boy, and I can't handle any of that.

Just goes to show how fucked up in the head I am, huh?

I'm on the downward slide now, back into the headspace, and that's fine by me. I don't belong like this anyway, not after the way I fucked up.

For some reason I think about that Jenny girl. She was somebody's daughter. Somebody's sister, probably. Like Redd, and Slymm.

Yeah, I know I said we can't save _everybody_.

But maybe we can save _some_ of 'em.

_**000**_

Next up: Alligators, angst, and the Showdown at the Sociable Inn.


	5. Said the Spider To The Fly

A/N: Yeah, I know, I haven't posted in a while.

I finally have a decent computer at home, with home internet soon to follow. I spent the last week or so writing updates for nearly all the stories I have posted so far, so I will be posting like a mad witch nearly every day after the fourth of July holiday. The only story I haven't updated will be _Double Bind_, 'cause I am seriously considering re-writing that entire story. I blame my muse. Seriously.

POV: Dean Winchester

Disclaimer: I don't own Dean, John, Sam, Coyote, or even Joe Ball. It pains me each and every time I have to say that.

_**Chapter 5 – Said The Spider to the Fly **_

Dean?

...Dadbloodfamilyscent...

_Come back to me, Ace..._

...heartbeart fast and steady...

_Come on now..._

...he's worried about me...

I come back to myself _s_itting on the ground with Dad's arms around me. Been like this more times in my life than I can count. Even with my eyes shut I can tell Sammy's standing nearby getting all broody and stuff.

I open my eyes and they both relax a little.

"Uh...Dad?"

"Hey, kiddo," Dad rumbles.

"Can't...breathe..."

"Oh." Dad loosens his grip and I finally take a breath.

I'm back in the game and on my feet in less than five seconds. I feel _good_. Sam shoots me this look like _So, what was that all about, dude? _

I grab my horse's reins out of his hand and ignore him instead. Samantha gets all pissyfaced. Think I'm gonna tell him that the Old Man just blew off some steam by manhandling me and killing some fuglies?

Yeah,_ right_.

"Dean?"

_Aw, crap. _I know_ that_ tone. Sam's one thing. Dad's a different story altogether.

Sam gets this cat and canary smirk on his face that makes me wanna cuff him right upside his shaggy fat head. Dad quirks that right eyebrow at me and I can tell my _"I'm all right let's go kill some evil sonsabitches"_ game face just isn't cutting it this time.

"That was Coyote?" It's not an order, just a question, and I relax a little.

I relax, and the Old Man freezes.

"Had something he wanted to show me." I shrug it off. Spent my whole life trying to keep the peace in my family. Seems wrong not to try.

"Okay." Dad still looks unconvinced. Damn, maybe I'm losing my touch. "A little rough about it, isn't he?"

Coyote sits up, his yellow eyes gone to slits.

"Yep. He's one of us."

"Yeah, he is." Dad nods.

Coyote's eyes widen when he hears _that_. The Old Man slowly stretches and yawns, wide and slow. He's trying to play it off, but the corners of his muzzle twitch upwards and he can't hide that dumb looking grin of his. He's just about jumping up and down. He's happy and all because of what Dad said.

I snort-chuckle, and I'm busted right there.

_Nosy pup. Take a damn picture, why don't 'cha, it'll last longer._

_Wuss. _

_**000**_

My favorite parts of hunting involve killing the fugly and not dying at the end of the hunt. One thing Dad drummed into us from an early age was research and repetition. When I was a kid I actually rolled my eyes when Dad first told me about the eight P's: _P__roper prior planning and preparation prevents piss-poor performance._ I got extra laps for doing that eye-roll, but you better believe I never forgot that rule after that.

So the first thing we do is nothing. I crouch down and pull up a clump of grass, roll it around between my fingers. Dad and Sam stand on either side of me as the moon rises overhead and people come from all around to the Sociable Inn.

Place looks normal enough. Roadside rustic I guess is what you'd call it, loud and flashy enough to draw customers in. Bright colors, well lit, looks like some restaurant motel franchise chain designed to lure in the overnight trade.

_Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly…_

Hitch-hikers with backpacks come in on foot. Families and single people in cars. Long distance truckers. Everyone who passes by pulls in. Everyone from everywhere.

I've still got that clump of grass in my hand, and it's real enough. I can read it like a book. I could tell you what animals and humans passed this way, and when. I can taste the rain in my mouth, feel the sun on my skin in the daytime, the chill in the desert air at night, and I get all that just from the feel of the grass touching my skin.

The Sociable Inn? I'm _not _feeling it. I lean forward, stare hard at the damn place. Everything else around me fades into the background. I push outwards with everything I have, and it's a full-on blank. Nothing. That blankness bothers me more than anything I've felt lately. Coyote's not picking up on anything either.

I can feel Dad and Sam's eyes on me, and I know my eyes have gone yellow. I can feel the heat warming my skin. Dad glances down at me, and I barely feel it when he puts his hand on my shoulder, real light and careful, like I'd startle or break like glass if he touched me harder.

"What is it, son?"

I'm having a hard time describing this. My throat closes up; I can't make a damn sound. Only thing I do know is I don't want Dad or Sam even setting foot in that damn place. I know they won't back off, won't stay there on that hillside while Coyote and me go in.

_We do this together, as a family, _Dad and Sam told me days ago, _or not at all._

"Dean," Sam says slowly, quietly. "What don't you see? What's it like?"

Trust Sammy to ask all the right questions.

"I should…" I swallow hard. "Should be able to see patterns. Electricity. Heat. Thoughts, smells and sounds. The usual." I keep my voice light and casual. I don't bother to look up at Sam. I can tell he's flashing back to that diner. First time I ever heard other people inside my head, and I freaked out. Big time. Bawled like a bitch. It hurt like hell then, but I've gotten better at it. I have. "I'm not picking up anything. Nothing. They go in, and it swallows them up."

My eyes go back to normal as I stand up, dust the dirt and grass off my hands. "Maybe me and the Old Man should go in alone, y'know? You guys can wait up here for us."

"Hell no," Dad huffs softly.

Sam steps up behind me and whacks me upside the back of my head hard enough to make me stumble forward.

"Or not." I rub the back of my head with one hand and glare at him. _I owe you for that one, Francis. _

Coyote snickers. _Nice try, niño._

_Shut up. _

We're on a job now. Might as well tell 'em the rest.

"Uhm…I saw one of the victims the other night."

"And you were gonna tell us this _when_?" Sam snaps. He sounds mad, but he's covering up how freaked out he's feeling, and doing a piss poor job of it. Never was much of a bullshit artist.

_Well, geez, bro',_ I think to myself, _didn't think you needed to hear all the gory details. Her name was Jenny and she didn't deserve what happened to her. I reached deep inside her head or she reached inside mine and I couldn't pull back and I started taking on some of the injuries she got when Joe Ball grabbed her. Yep, he must have been a real strong sonofabitch 'cause he snapped my wrist in two like a pretzel and that was when I realized I'd fucked up but good so there's no reason to worry about me, Sam, no reason at all…_

The way I tell it, I was just a casual observer to what happened instead. I finally run out of words and they both look at me kind of funny. "I can show you better than I can tell you."

I don't do a damned thing until they both nod at me, give me permission to go ahead. I don't like mucking around inside somebody else's head. We stand there staring at each other, and yeah, we're miles past awkward. I reach out, slowly, carefully. I show them what Jenny looked like when she was alive. I show Dad and Sam the damage Jenny took when she died.

And I show them those damn dreams.

Dad sways a little on his feet as the last images fade out behind his eyes. Sam squints and rubs at the bridge of his nose. I tried to be as gentle as I could. I made sure they didn't get hurt like I did. A lot of this stuff I do on instinct. Couldn't explain it if I wanted to.

_There's more inside that head of yours than you even realize,_ that damn yellow eyed demon bastard told me weeks ago.

According to Bobby, even a clock that's stopped is right twice a day.

Damn.

"Any reason _why_ she came to you in the first place?" I don't like that low note of concern in Dad's voice. It's the same tone of voice I've heard Dad use when we interview people.

I shake my head slowly. "I don't have a clue."

"Has this ever happened before?"

I shake my head again. "No sir."

Dad goes over to his red roan colt and opens his saddlebag. He pulls out two bandoliers of rock salt cartridges, two shotguns, and starts loading up his duffel. "All right," Dad says quietly. "Let's go over what we know about this Joe Ball one more time, boys."

I repeat what I know, Marine lecture style, as all three of us start gearing up.

"Joe Ball. AKA The Butcher of Elmendorf, the Alligator Man, the Bluebeard of South Texas. Suspected in the murders of two of his ex-wives and at least twenty other people. Turnover of waitresses who worked the place was always high. They were always young and pretty. Ball claimed they left town looking for other jobs. Body count includes one young boy who hung around the Inn."

Sam frowns as he loads rock salt cartridges into his sawed off shotgun. "Original location was in Elmendorf, Texas, _not _New Mexico," he says slowly. I can just about hear Sam's big ol' brain clicking away as he processes what he knows.

"The real Sociable Inn was a dump, a gin joint. In the back were two bedrooms and up front there was a bar, a player piano and a room with tables. Sometimes they staged cockfights up front. We're not talkin' Disneyland here." I check my left boot and slip my Kershaw knife into my ankle sheath there.

Coyote sits up and huffs impatiently. He still doesn't get it, why I'm still hands on most of the time.

"So it changed," Sam says thoughtfully. "Change in location. And appearance."

"What was the trigger again?" Dad says absently. "Why'd he commit suicide?"

I slip my Colt 1911 into my back waistband. "Texas Rangers showed up at his place to question him about a meat barrel. And human remains."

Dad grunts softly and shakes his head as he slides his silver flask of holy water into the right inside pocket of his jacket. "That might be something we can use against him. Maybe we can convince him that's happening all over again. Slow him down long enough to get the drop on him and send him back to hell. Or worse."

Yep, that sounds just like something Dad would do.

Sam loads his duffel up with flares, bottles of holy water, stakes of blessed wood and several bags of rock salt, and he's just getting started. Kid definitely believes in the Boy Scout Motto: "Be Prepared." He pulls out that pigsticker he used on that demon bitch Cailym.

I look at it and shake my head. "That's _not_ a knife."

It's my best Paul Hogan as Crocodile Dundee imitation, and as usual Sammy looks totally blank. He never laughs at any of my material. _Never._ Coyote laughs. Every single time. I can hear Sammy now: "It's a poor comedian who laughs at his own jokes."

Whatever. I fill my hand with a long knife. It's twice as long as Sam's knife, with a carved bone handle and runes engraved in the blade. "_That's_ a knife."

"Huh. Always did think you were over compensating, bro."

I grin at him. "I can't help it that size _does_ matter, Samantha."

Sam quirks an eyebrow at me and opens his mouth to say something just as Dad clears his throat. "Ah, boys?"

We both shut the hell up and snap to attention. Even Coyote stops and listens.

"Okay then." Dad glances down at the highway, then back at us again. The lines in his face relax a little and he grins at Sam and me. "Standard recon, then. So what d'ya say we head on down and take a look?"

Sure. We'll just ride on down there and blend in with the normals.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

Our horses won't go near the place.

We mount up and my big black mare digs her heels in and refuses to move when I try to ride down the hill. She backs up, wide-eyed, whinnying and huffing.

_What, go down there? Dude, are you crazy?_

I drop the reins and my girl turns around and walks right back to the same spot she was standing in before. Dad's red roan colt and Sam's grey refuse to move.

Hell, that's so _not_ good.

"Guess we're on foot from here on in," Dad says dryly as he dismounts. Sam and I do likewise and that pit in my stomach gets a little heavier.

Animals always pick up on bad vibes way quicker than the average human does. Hell, we've all survived hunts by paying close attention to animals nearby, even bugs. Crickets go silent all of a sudden, birds refuse to fly near a certain place, or even deliberately fly headfirst into trees and walls trying to get away when a fugly was nearby.

So, yeah, I'll take Fido or Fluffy on a hunt with me any day of the week. Or in this case, my friend Flicka.

I burn a circle of protection and containment runes in the ground all around the horses. Anybody who thinks they're going to just walk up and ride off with them is gonna be in for a big surprise. Anything fugly that thinks horsemeat is on the menu for tonight is going to catch hell, too.

Coyote huffs. _Out of sight, out of mind, _and the horses fade out completely as the Old Man hides them in plain sight.

_**000**_

When we reach the bottom of the hill Sam gets that broody look again. "Damn, I keep thinkin' we're forgettin' something."

I turn and roll my eyes at him. _Oh, you mean this? _

Dad hears both of us inside his head, but I gotta give 'em credit, he takes it all in stride. I guess after spending a year down in hell tortured by demons hearing your two sons' voices inside your head is kinda tame by comparison.

_Yeah, I think we should be…_Sam stops in his tracks when he realizes that he hasn't said a word out loud. Neither of us have.

The corners of Dad's mouth twitches as he tries not to laugh.

We're linked now, all four of us. It's like having a cell phone connection inside our heads. Nothing deeper than that. I don't_ want_ to read Dad's mind. Or Sam's.

Takes a while for us to cross the highway, what with all the traffic passing by and pulling onto the lot. We hit the glass double doors a minute later, and I stare at our reflections in the glass as I grab the door handle. My hair's gotten lighter from being out in the sun so much. Never noticed it before but Sam's got stubble of his own. Not so little brother. Not anymore. Dad's got our six, and he's somehow calm and wired all at the same time. Never understood how he does that.

I see the trail dust on our clothes, leather and denim. Got our game faces on, and our duffels on our shoulders. We got a job to do, we're on a case. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I step one foot inside and everything goes south pretty damn fast.

Something grabs me by the throat and yanks me forward. A blood red wall slams down between me and Dad and Sam, and the fingers around my neck dig into my windpipe. I can't breathe. Can't think…

_You came,_ Jenny whispers sadly. _You came, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry…_

_**000**_

**_I hope everyone has a safe and happy 4th of July weekend. I'm going to go get a little wild and crazy now, so if you can please review and let me know what you think if you have the chance. Next week I'll post updates to this and some of my other stories. Have a good one! _**


	6. Fugly Convention at the Sociable Inn

_**Chapter 6 – Fugly Convention at the Sociable Inn **_

A/N: This chapter has a few short paragraphs that contain vivid weird imagery regarding food. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

POV: Dean Winchester

Disclaimer: Don't own John, Dean, Sam, Coyote or Joe Ball. There, I said it.

_**000**_

Soon as the bastard touches me I read him like a book: lower level demon, just your usual evil black eyed sonofabitch. Pale skin, sulfur scent. Dude's wearing his original form, the human one he had when he first went to hell. He's Joe Average, somebody you wouldn't look at twice on the street, except for the pitch black eyes. He could have been Satan himself and it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Nobody puts their hands on me like that.

_Nobody._

I get it _all_, just from his touch. Damn fool thinks I'm a normal, something he can play with. Hey, he and his three buddies are out on the town tonight, bored as hell, and apparently they were looking for some poor bastard to be the evening's entertainment.

Thing is, they don't know _who_ or _what_ I am. Lucky me. They cast this stupid spell together to separate me from the other normals. Part of the spell is meant to paralyze the vic, but that grade school stuff doesn't work on me. They're all around me, so close I can reach out and grab them, and they're too damn dumb to figure out what's about to happen next.

Jenny's voice echoes inside my head.

_You came. _She actually sounds surprised._ I'm sorry…_

_Don't be. None of this is your fault. _

_He bound us to him. He owns everyone he killed, all of us. We go where he goes. He took us down to hell and back. It'll be like this forever, and now he'll get you too._

_No, he won't._

Jenny fades out. I can't hear or see Dad. Or Sam.

This crap is_ really _pissing me off.

_So much for goin' in sneaky,_ Coyote huffs softly. _You plan on dealin' with our new best friends any time soon? Sometime this year would be nice._

_Workin' on it. Need to find out where Sam and Dad are first._

_Maybe I should take a nap while you're decidin' what to do, yeah?_

_Damn smartass._

I pick up an echo of Dad and Sam in the next room. _Yahtzee. _They're both okay, alive and breathing and in one piece.

"Pretty little meatsuit, ain't he?" Dumbass number one grips my neck a little tighter, runs his thumb over my Adam's apple.

Dumbass number two fingers the front of my leather duster. "Nice coat, bro'."

_All right._ That's _it._

My eyes go yellow. _'bout time,_ Coyote drawls, and I growl, deep in my throat. The Old Man laughs.

Two of the demons, apparently the smarter ones, stop laughing almost immediately. I've got the stupid one with his hand on my coat by the throat and up on his tiptoes and he's still giggling as I tighten my fingers around his throat.

Joe Average stares at my face and the light dawns in those damn pitch black eyes. He knows he's fucked up but good, but it's way too late by that time. I reach up, dig my fingers deep into the fleshy part of his hand, right between his thumb and forefinger. I twist my wrist, damn near pull his arm out of its socket, and he drops to his knees as his remaining two buddies start backing up.

Bright golden light snaps and sparks between my fingers. The ones I've got ahold of open their mouths to scream, and nothing comes out but light. It pours out of their mouths and their eyes, out of every damn pore of their skin.

Not all of this new stuff I can do now is a pain in the ass. This is called _the laying on of hands_, and it's an old school exorcism from back in the day. _Way way back in the day_. It's like I did the complete Rituale Romanum in three seconds flat, and all with the touch of my hand. No Latin. Takes longer to talk about it than to do it.

The two demons unravel, go from flesh to black smoke and then nothing but dead grey air.

Everything fugly stops dead in their tracks.

_I think we got their attention now, niño,_ Coyote mutters dryly.

"_S-sorry…"_

I angle my head, smile slightly at them like I've just sighted the dinner buffet.

"_Sorry…" _The last two trip over each other trying to get away from me. God, I wanna kill 'em all, but I have to get to Dad and Sam first.

"_We…we thought you were something else…"_

I see myself reflected in their black eyes. I'm lit up from the inside by dark golden light. Sometimes it's all about showmanship in this game, and if you can do it, then you ain't braggin'. I snap my fingers and the glow fades out. I don't even bother to hide my eyes anymore. I get some looks from some of the others, but they turn away real quick and no one else makes a move on me.

That's when I finally notice what the Sociable Inn _really_ looks like.

There's the smell, for one thing. Sulfur, methane, and every kind of nasty smell you can imagine, and several I'd rather not even_ think_ of. Body fluids, decomp, and it's one time I wish my damn nose wasn't that sensitive.

The floor's moving. I take a step and something crunches underneath my boots. I glance down and immediately wish I hadn't. The floor is covered with bugs, maggots and God only knows what else from wall to wall.

Fucked up doesn't even _begin_ to cover _this_.

I see normals all around me. They're eating, drinking and laughing, sitting at tables and booths, playing video games and watching sports on the big screen tv in the back.

At least, they _think_ they're watching a baseball game. New York Mets versus the Chicago Cubs? I don't think so. I glance at the big screen tv and all I see is row upon row of screaming human bodies impaled on pikes and crosses while a group of demons stands around laughing and clapping.

I blink again and the baseball game's back on.

I see dead people, too. And demons, all around me.

All the walking stiffs wear uniforms, red vests, black pants, long sleeved white shirts with those stupid looking black string ties. Some of them are riper than others. I see white bone sticking out of pale grey skin, black eye sockets and wide gaping mouths filled with rotting yellow teeth.

Got a variety of demons in the house tonight. Black eyes, and red and silver eyes too.

Some of these ugly mothers don't even _have _eyes.

That's not the worst part. I _did_ mention that the normals are eating and drinking like nothing's wrong, right?

The food is covered with maggots.

Maggots in the beer. Maggots in _everything_.

My stomach does a slow greasy flip flop. Takes an effort for me not to start hurling up what little food I had earlier that day. Even the Old Man's freaked out. He paces back and forth, the hair on his back raised up and his tail bushed out.

Coyote grunts. _Umh, think I'll pass on dinner tonight. _

_Yeah. That would be good._

The civilians can't see any of this. It's some kind of damn illusion, some kind of glamour that makes them think that everything's fine, everything's normal. They can't see what this place really looks like. They can't see the dead people or the demons, or the rest of it.

I walk through like I own the place, and why not? It's a damn fugly convention out here, and I'm one'a the boys. Just another big bad. Whatever.

I see Dad and Sam sitting in a booth in the far corner of the dining area. I spot them before they see me, and it's a damn good thing I got my game face on. Thought I'd fucked up, thought I'd lost them too, just like Thomas and Redd and Slymm.

Sam pretends to look at the menu while Dad looks around, bored.

_Dude, I'd stay away from the specials if I were you. Matter of fact, step away from the menu, Sammy. _

_Dean, where the hell are you? _Dad barks. I know that tone. He sounds like that when he's worried about us. Used to drive Sam crazy until he realized that was just Dad's way.

_Six o'clock from your position. _

Dad turns around like he's looking for the waitress. He looks at me, then right past me. He turns around to face Sam again.

_Where'd you go? _

_Got grabbed by some of the local talent. Demons. Thought I was normal. Made an example of the ones who tried to snatch me, so I'm on the fugly side now. We're gonna keep them focused on me and the Old Man, not you. Give you a chance to get the lay of the land before we close this place down. _

Sam snickers. _Thought you were normal. Huh._

I give him a good solid mental thump upside the head.

_Ouch. Hey!_

_Fuglies on one side, normals on the other. One side overlaps the other. You can see what this place really looks like, right? _

_Yeah, _Sam says dryly_. I think I just lost my appetite for the next year or two. Uh…don't you think we should try to stop 'em from eating? _He flinches as the family of four at the next table wolfs down a meat lovers' pizza liberally sprinkled with bugs and squirming maggots.

Dad shrugs._ Well, bugs are a good source of protein, Sammy, _he says dryly.

Sam stares at Dad in disbelief._ Tell me you didn't --_

Dad's calm as always._ Tell you about it later. Anything else we need to know, son? _

_Yep. Place is warded. I can feel it. We can't leave yet. None of us can. _

_And what are you gonna do?_

_I think it's time I look up the head demon bastard in charge._

Dad nods to himself, and just then a dead waitress shambles up with a pencil and pad and chirps, "You gentlemen ready to order yet?"

_Bon appétit, Samantha._

I go looking for Joe Ball.

_**000**_

Will update this Saturday morning.

_**Next:**_ Dean and Coyote get up close and personal with Joe Ball and his gators. Sam and John have a unique dining experience, and things get even more hellish inside the Sociable Inn.


	7. Gustatus Similis Pullus

**A/N:**I apologize to everybody for not updating this one sooner. Thank you, lembas7, for the poke and the reminder. I also want to thank all those who recc'd "Dog Eat Dog" somewhere else and everyone who visited my site to read "Dog" in August. I'm still overwhelmed by the response to that story. And yes, I was listening to "Ladies and Gentlemen" by Saliva while I wrote this.

_**POV:**_ Dean Winchester.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Dean, Coyote, Sam or John, and I'm very unhappy about that.

* * *

_**Chapter 7 – **__**Gustatus Similis Pullus**_

_Now you know_, Coyote says slowly, _you don't have to physically walk this place._

_Uh huh._

He lays his ears back._ But you're going to anyway, aren't cha?_

_Damn right. _

I'm in stealth mode now. I'm a blank spot in everyone's perception. I go anywhere I want to, and nobody even knows I'm there.

I see golden eyed, horned demons with pitch black skin. Silver eyed devils with fangs and pale blue scaly skin, and every damn color combination in between, but what I_ don't_ see is Joe Ball's sorry ass. There's one photo of Ball on the 'net. It wasn't a very good picture, but it was clear enough. So far I got nothing.

Back at Dad and Sam's table, the undead waitress chick's nametag says _Beverly_, and she's nothing but skin and bones. She stands there dressed in that tattered pink waitress uniform with one hand on her hip, chewing and popping gum, which just makes matters worse. She's giving Sam the fish eye, standing there tapping her pad with her pencil, waiting for him to order _maggots al détente. _Sam'sstalling like a champ, squinting at the menu.

He tries not to blink when he looks at her, but he can't help it. He blinks once and she looks like death warmed over, pale grey skin and bones and a death's head grin. Next blink, she's young and whole, a slender blue eyed brunette who's probably closer to my age.

It's the same with the smells in the place. One moment it smells good, pizza, burgers, fish. The next moment it's shit, rot, and methane gas.

_Uh…Dean?_

_Yeah, Sam?_

_Uhm, you need some help with recon?_

_Help? Nah, we're good. Remember when you were four years old, and we lived in that house Dad rented in Scranton, Ohio? We had spaghetti the night before, and you thought spaghetti was the same as earthworms, so the next morning you went out in the back yard and did a taste test. _

Coyote turns over on his belly, puts one paw over his muzzle and snorts real loud several times.

Sam burps. He's one hitch of his throat away from spewing chunks all over the place. The Old Man squeezes his eyes shut, and his shoulders shake as he gives out a few more loud snorts.

Dad clears his throat. _Dean? _I pick up on Dad's tone right away._ Any sign of Joe Ball yet?_

_Uh, no sir._

_Let me know when you do, okay?_ Translation: _Stop trying to make your brother hurl._

_Yes sir. _

"Ya gotta order somethin', hun," Beverly the undead waitress drawls lazily. "Ya can't just sit here."

Dad quirks an eyebrow at her. "We're fine here, miss. You can go now." His voice has this weird vibration that I've heard somewhere before, but I can't place it. Beverly blinks once, turns on her heel and shambles away.

Coyote's ears go straight up and his eyes widen.

I stop dead in my tracks. _Uh…Dad? Wha…what was that?_

Dad chuckles a little. _I don't know. Just thought about it, and I did it._

_Oh. Shit._

Sam stares at Dad for a long minute. Hell, I'm a little slow on the uptake tonight. Then it hits me.

_Andy Gallagher. _

Andy was one of the yellow-eyed Demon's special kids. He could make _anyone_ do _anything_, just by _asking_ them. Hell, first time I met him face to face I gave him the Impala just because he _asked_ me to. Only reason I didn't gank the little twerp later on was because seeing Andy with his goofy ass gave me hope. Andy was no cold blooded killer, even _with_ his power. Since Andy wasn't a killer odds were pretty damn good that Sammy wouldn't turn darkside, either.

_I'll be damned_, Sam whispers.

First Sammy with that TK thing, that floating wet dream of his, and now Dad. Shouldn't have messed around inside of them before we left Bertha's place, but I couldn't think of anything else to do. I gave them the ability to ride horses, boosted their reaction time, strength and stamina so they'd have a fighting chance out here. I put some Anasazi protection prayers around them too. That's_ it_, that's _all_ I intended to do. Not _this_. It's too damn fugly for me, reminds me of the same shit that friggin' yellow-eyed bastard would do…

I forget to block my end of the link, 'cause everyone heard that last one.

_Hey, Dean?_

_What?_

_Getting a little emo there, aren't you, kiddo?_

_Shut up, Sam._

_**000**_

All of the normals have been herded into that large dining area where Dad and Sam are. I count at least twenty waitresses, young women who disappeared after they came to work for Joe Ball. I'll drop 'em like a bad habit if they make a move on Dad or Sam, but for now it's just wait and see. They're victims, and we're not here to make them any more miserable than they already are.

I don't see Jenny anywhere, and that bothers the hell out of me.

The demons and other assorted fuglies have the run of the rest of the Inn. They're everywhere, at the bar, standing around and sitting at the tables out front. The rest of the employees, the bartender, the dining room hosts, servers and cashiers, are all black-eyed demons straight from hell. The dead bodies they're in are all male, different races and ages and each one of them is in various stages of decomp. I mark thirteen of them, a devil's dozen.

I'm heading for the kitchen when the two-way link goes one way. Sam and Dad can't hear us anymore and I know it's the Old Man's doing.

_You wanna talk about it?_

_What the hell? Dr Phil?_ I roll my eyes as I make my way through the crowd. _Oh, gee, I sure do. We can hold hands and you can sing Kumbaya while I share and care. Not. _

_Yeah, but --_

_I'm. Fine._ Take the hint, fuzzy. Drop it.

_You're freaking out over this –_

_Shut up. _

_I didn't tell you this was gonna happen to John and Sam 'cause I didn't know myself. You gotta get a grip. You get sloppy, we'll get nailed by one'a these bastards. _

I work my way through the crowd of fuglies._ Tell me something. I just put the words Shut and up together in a sentence. What part of that don't you get? You were here a few minutes ago. Told Dad I didn't wanna talk about this. Told Sam the same damn thing. What makes you think I wanna talk bout this? There's nothing to talk about._

_You tried to give them every advantage. _Coyote shrugs. _They'll need it while we're out here. Nothing wrong with that. _

_And what happens after this is all over? Sam and Dad deserve normal after all they've been through. They don't need to live like-- _My brain finally catches up with my mouth, and I shut the hell up, but not quick enough.

_Don't deserve to live like what? Like fuglies? Like us? You still playin' that tired old song, boy?_

_Damn, you sound just like Bobby. _I say it with a smirk, and the furball is definitely _not _amused.

I slip through the kitchen area like a ghost. It's Hell's Kitchen for real: grinning fuglies in bloodstained white chef's clothing, sharp knives, rotten chicken, fish and beef. Maggots, worms and roaches everywhere.

I don't think I'll eat anything for a week.

**000**

Did I mention that some of the stuff I can do now is a pain in the ass? Some it _is_ pretty sweet, like this stealth thing. Well, it _was_, until we tried going out back, to that outer courtyard.

I put my hand around the knob, and push. Nothing. I rattle the sucker. Zilch.

Okay. I step back and Coyote startles when I put my boot to the door. _Hard._

Still nothing. I look around and nobody's noticed a damn thing.

Okay. Second time…I lift my foot up again.

_Whoa whoa whoa!_ Coyote sputters. _Kid, what 're you doin'?_

_Door's locked._ I say flatly as I eye the damn thing. I'm balancing on one foot, like a damn stork or something. _Don't like locked doors._

_Yeah, I see,_ Coyote snaps. _Put your leg down and step away from the door, grasshopper. Slowly._

_Why? _

'_Cause it's heavily warded, and if you keep on doin' that they'll know we're here._

_Oh. _Then: _But why's the door locked?_

_Beats the hell outta me. I got nothing. _

I stand there with one hand over the door._ We can't ghost through the walls? We could Swayze this sucker…_

Coyote laughs._ Same damn thing. They got some serious mojo inside these walls. We'll get scrambled up and won't be able to get back out. _

_Oh._

_Thought you didn't like stuff like this. It's too...fugly for ya._

I shrug._ Some of it I like. _

All this time I can hear movement behind me. I turn around and glance over at the dining room area. Two black eyed demons wearing dead male bodies close the doors and stand guard on either side.

Ten of the waitresses move from one table to another in the bar area. I expect to see Jenny out on the floor, but she's still a no-show.

Doesn't take me long to figure out what's going on. I hear _everything_.

"I'll take that little baby thing with the blonde hair. Lightly roasted." The fug quirks one scaly eyebrow at the undead waitress. "And no garlic, all right? I'd prefer barberry or hemlock."

"Hmm…I like dark meat. Rare. Female, if you have it."

"I like older long pig, but they tend to be tough. Do you beat them before you cook them? What kind of seasonings do you use?"

Sounds from the kitchen draw my attention next. They're dragging out really big pots and pans, and I mean steel pots and pans damn near the size of bathtubs. This black eyed demon over in the corner is passing out meat cleavers, axes and butcher knives to the other kitchen fuglies.

"Seven minutes. We start the harvest in seven minutes," it tells the others. "You gotta be smart about this. The more you scare 'em, the better the meat'll taste."

_Son of a bitch. _

I've heard enough. I make the jump into the dining room and re-appear sitting opposite Dad and Sam in their booth.

Sam actually flinches. "Uh, Dean? We're in public, remember?"

"I got it covered. They can't see me. That's the least of our worries now, Sammy."

We are _so_ screwed.

_**000**_

Dad takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. _Gustatus Similus Pullus._

_Long pig. Human flesh, _Sam thinks quietly._ Gustatus Similus Pullus is dog latin. Translates to 'tastes like chicken'. _

_We got seven minutes. Six now. _I stare at the doors. No movement yet. The normals in here don't even notice. _We gotta shut this down. Now._

Coyote gets up, stretches, and then shakes himself from nose to tail._ So, what ya wanna do first?_

_I say we raise a little hell. Ball's hiding. We need to smoke him out. This is his set-up. We gank him, deal with the rest. Protect the normals until we can evac them._

Dad quirks an eyebrow at me._ Any ideas?_

_I know a trick or two. _

_**000**_

Showtime.

I get up and walk over to the double doors. I stop five feet away, and I wait. They're playing some lousy pop ballad by some group I probably hate over the sound system. Don't recognize the tune. I make the sound system go quiet for a moment, and Coyote huffs. _Boy, what the hell are you doing?_

_We need a soundtrack for this, Old Man._ It's not Metallica or AC/DC, but it fits. Like a glove.

The music starts up, and my timing's perfect. I hit the doors just as that bad ass guitar riff kicks in.

_**Ladies and gentlemen please  
Would you bring your attention to me?**_

Damn right they do.

I give both double doors a real hard push with my mind and they part before me like the Red Sea. Hell, I feel like Chuck Heston playing Moses. The doors slam backwards hard into the walls on either side, and both demons guarding the door go down hard.

_**For a feast for your eyes to see  
An explosion of catastrophe.**_

I don't even break stride. We're rolling now. As soon as I step inside, a wave of golden light spreads out from my boot prints. That carpet of bugs underfoot disappears, from wall to wall. Floor underneath is now blond hardwood. Suits me a hell of a lot better than before.

Sam's got my back. He pulls the doors shut and holds them in place with his talent. Coyote conjures up a thick line of salt and cats eyes shells on the other side that should hold until we finish.

_**Like nothing you've ever seen before  
Watch closely as I open this door**_

I can see myself in the mirrored wall behind the bar. Heavy thump of my boots on that hardwood floor. Got my spurs on too, even though I never use 'em on my girl. My collar's turned up, just the way I like it. A wind comes up and gently blows the hem of my duster out behind me. Looks like I'm walking in slow motion. It's a cool effect, something you'd see in the movies. Think of Nic Cage in _Face Off_, walking off that plane dressed in that priest's costume.

I glance around the room and I pick my targets. I use everything my Dad ever taught me, and then some. That damn wight over there gets a bellyful of silver. Its eyes roll up into its head and it keels over, stone dead. That's one fugly down. Two ghouls across the room start fighting and clawing at each other as soon as I look in their direction. I etch crosses into the bottom of the seats those two druyas are sitting in and their bodies start to melt and dissolve.

_**Your jaws will be on the floor  
After this you'll be begging for more.**_

I'm just getting started. I shoulder my way through the crowd. Some of them still don't know what's going on, not yet, anyway. I'm going on instinct. All I have to do is think about what I want, and it happens. Shouldn't be that easy, but it is.

_Stop overthinking this, pup,_ the Old Man growls. _Just go with it._

So I do.

_**Welcome to the show  
Please come inside  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

Everybody gets something.

_**Boom  
Do you want it?**_

Whatever their poison is, that's what I give 'em. Salt, silver, goofer dust, whatever. I spread it all over the room, where ever I look.  
_**  
Boom  
Do you need it?**_

Shit happens, and it happens fast.

That big plasma screen's showing crucifixions. Humans scream and beg for mercy while they're nailed to crosses by black eyed demons and hoisted into the air.

_I got this,_ Coyote grunts.

The picture blinks and rolls. Oprah Winfrey's on instead, talking about her feelings. Several of the fuglies screech and back away in terror. This one demon's head spins around and explodes.

_That's pretty twisted, Old Man._

_Well, we wanna piss 'em off don't we?_ Coyote snarks. _That'll do it._

_**Boom  
Let me hear it  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

A tentacled whatsis about half the size of a Volksvagen Bug squishes up a few feet away from me. That one yellow eye in the middle of what I think is its face turns in my direction and glares at me.

Yeah, right. Anything that has tentacles is in the top ten of my Things I Hate With A Passion Now and Forever, Amen shit list. The great state of Florida's on there, along with pay toilets, skunk apes, French food, road hogs, small town sheriffs and most other authority figures. That much about me_ hasn't_ changed.

_**Boom  
Do you want it?**_

My eyes flash dark gold and Squiddly turns into fried calamari. Several of the fugs spot the remains and start squabbling over the leftovers. It gets lethal pretty quick. This huge froggy looking thing with six arms is the winner. It eats what's left of Squiddly and two of the competition, then mummifies and dies because I loaded Squiddly with salt.

_**Boom  
Do you need it?**_

There's a table full of abiku a few feet away. They're West African demons with a taste for kids, preferably newborns. One of 'em lifts its champagne bottle up in a toast, and the rest grin with those huge jagged teeth of theirs as they clink their bottles together. I've seen two families with babies over on the normal side. Fuckers think there's gonna be plenty good eating tonight.

They better think again.

_**Boom  
Let me hear it**_

I turn the champagne into holy water as it goes down their throats. They don't have stomachs. They're thirsty all the damn time, so they can't stop themselves. They all burn up from the inside out before they realize what's happening.

_**Ladies and gentlemen  
**_**_Good evening  
_****_You've seen that seeing is believing_**

A server heads out of the kitchen balancing two large platters of snow crab legs. The snow crabs turn whole again. They hop off the tray and make a run for the front door.

_**Your ears and your eyes will be bleeding  
Please check to see if you're still breathing**_

Two black eyes run behind them and try to grab 'em and when they do, they bump into some Shĭĭri demons. Shĭĭri are short-tempered, ornery bastards, human bodies with the heads of giant praying mantises. Just looking at 'em wrong is guaranteed to start a fight. Bumping into them is a no-brainer. The employees lose the fight and the Shĭĭri eat them as appetizers.

I keep an eye on Dad and Sam through the link. Dad goes from table to table telling the folks to remain calm. Salt line at the door's still holding. I still can't get over that neutralizer thing Dad's doing with his voice.

_**Hold tight cause the show is not over  
If you will please move in closer**_

Bar's crowded, no seats. Hell, that's all the better.

I don't even wait for anyone to make room. I clear the whole damn row with one gesture. Everybody gets pushed out of my way. There's a lot of cussing and shrieking. After all this, some of them _still_ weren't paying attention, and the dumbasses start fighting each other. That's all the better.

_**You're about to be bowled over  
By the wonders you're about to behold here**_

A couple of the fuglies snap their heads around and glare at me. My eyes get brighter. I growl, low and deep.

_Come on, you stupid sonsabitches. Give me a reason._

Nobody does. They back up, grumbling and hissing.

_**Welcome to the show  
(Welcome to the show)  
Please come inside  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

I sit down leaning back with both elbows on the counter, my legs stretched out in front of me, my back to the bartender. I'm enjoying the hell out of this, and I don't bother to hide that smirk on my face.

"Uh, sir…"

I ignore his fugly ass. This is my playground now. It's all mine, and I've got a lot of shiny new toys to play with.

"Uh, sir, you're going to have to order something." Damn fug just won't back off. "You can't just sit here."

I feel a light touch on my right elbow. I look down at those bony rotting fingers of his touching my leather and I fill my left hand with a Rambo Bowie knife.

_**Boom  
Do you want it?  
Boom**_

I flip the knife around in mid-air (_showoff_, Coyote grumbles), turn and drive the hilt all the way in, pinning the fug bartender to the countertop.

_**Do you need it?  
Boom  
Let me hear it  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

I turn back around without missing a beat. " 'm fine. Thanks for asking."

_**Boom  
Do you want it?  
Boom  
Do you need it?  
Boom  
Let me hear it**_

I fill my hand with a cold bottle of beer. I take a long swallow and damn, even the beer tastes better than it did before.

The bartender pulls back, and his body's so rotten that his hand separates from his arm at his wrist.

_**Welcome to the show  
(Welcome to the show)  
Glad you came undone  
(Glad you came undone)  
Please come inside  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

I take another swallow. "Hey. Stumpy? You okay back there?"

Yeah. Like I really care. I don't expect an answer, and I don't get one, either.

_**Boom  
Do you want it?  
Boom  
Do you need it?  
Boom  
Let me hear it  
Ladies and gentlemen**_

After I finish the bottle I flip it backwards over my shoulder. It bounces off and cracks the mirrored wall and hits Stumpy in the head.

Stumpy staggers off and I turn around and retrieve my knife, after I shake his hand off. I give the blade another flick of the wrist in mid-air before I make it vanish, then I turn back around check out the view. Fights have broken out all over the place. Apparently some of the different factions of demons were here on a truce, and now the truce is broken.

Gee, imagine that.

_**Boom  
Do you want it?  
Boom  
Do you need it?  
Boom  
Let me hear it  
**_  
What was that Bobby told me and Sam about tricksters? Oh yeah. "These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing." I'm not too thrilled about being referred to as a thing, but I tell ya, Bobby sure knows his stuff.

_Dean?_

_Dad?_

_Any sign of Ball yet?_

I smell beer and aftershave. Scent's loud, mixed with hair oil and funk.

I've smelled it before.

_I dreamed it before._ When I was tossed into that pool out back. Something was in the water, something with teeth, and I died each and every time as Jenny stood there watching, silent, torn and dead.

"Well now, lookit you," this voice rumbles. He's too damn cheerful, for one thing. "We got ourselves a celebrity in our midst. Just like me."

_He__re's the lil' prom queen now, _Coyote mutters sourly.

I turn to my left and I don't let any expression come into my eyes. I stare the dude up and down, just to make sure.

Dark wavy hair, oily looking, laid over to the side. Big beefy dude, but not gone to fat. Probably never will. He's dead and damned, so this is probably as good as it gets for him. He's taller than me, almost as tall as Sam. He draws himself up to his full height, and I guess he thinks that's gonna intimidate me. I nearly laugh in his face.

Yahtzee.

I'm staring into the beady black eyes of one Joseph D. Ball. The Butcher of Elmendorf. The Alligator Man.

**000**

I got the source material for _Gustatus Similis Pullus from Wikipedia, from the classic Twilight Zone episode "To Serve Man"_:

According to a New York Times article from 1 April 2008, "Inside the black budget", an unofficial badge of the 509th Bomb Wing based in Roswell, New Mexico, shows a space alien with huge eyes holding a stealth bomber near its mouth. The text reads "To Serve Man", while the caption below reads " Gustatus Similis Pullus" - dog Latin for "Tastes Like Chicken."

Barberry and hemlock are dangerous herbs, more suited to dark magic.

I included two references to two very popular fan fics on that I really enjoyed. See if you can spot 'em and point them out to me. You get a No-Prize if you can. (Phoebe, this should be a no-brainer for you.)

I'd offer real money or a tangible prize, but my muse tells me we're on a strict budget.

Also: I understand that someone recc'd "Dog Eat Dog." "Dog" has been getting a lot of hits in August and September. If anybody could tell me who recc'd "Dog", I'd appreciate it. I'm very grateful and I'd like to thank them.

**_Next:_** Alligators and angst. It's closing time at the Sociable Inn.


	8. with it, he goes on all fours

_**A/N #1:**_ For Phoebe, so she doesn't have to read Dog Eat Dog again. Much apologies to all you folks who have this story on Story Alert. I humbly apologize for the delay. I have no excuse.

_**A/N #2:**__ We've been on hiatus._ Looks shifty-eyed. _Yeah, that's it…_

_**Warnings:**_ violent images, and cussing.

_**Disclaimer:**_ If you recognize 'em, I don't own 'em.

* * *

**Chapter 8 – "**_**with it, he goes on all fours"**_

Be a real nice story if I told you I just reached out and ganked Joe Ball right then and there. Nice and easy.

Thing is, I wouldn't know _easy_ if it walked up to me. I'd probably salt and burn its sorry ass.

I hear a noise right behind me, and the freaks from the kitchen are right on my six. A friggin' meat cleaver slices through the air next to my right ear, and I start ducking and dodging, punching and kicking out at them for all I'm worth.

They're not interested in serving up long pig anymore.

Me and the Old Man just made it to the top of the dinner menu.

The air smells like rotten meat and sulfur. I'm right in the freaking middle of a whole swarm of fuglies, and Joe Ball's stepped back somehow, way out of my reach.

Like I said, I don't do easy. Time to go to work.

Rule number one: don't get hurt.

I put shields up all around me, like body armor. Yep, I admit it, I've watched Star Trek a couple of times. A good idea is a good idea, 'specially if it saves my ass. Gotten kinda used to it being in one piece, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Even with the Old Man backing me up, the space around us is filled with all kinds of kitchen steel. If I get careless even once they get lucky, but the good thing is they're not fighting as a unit. It's every fug for itself, and that makes it easier to scrag their sorry asses.

Which brings me to rule number two, my favorite: make the bastards pay.

Knives shatter in the air all around me. The pieces fly back and nail the fugs in the faces and arms. I turn the steel into silver and they howl like banshees as their skin burns. The air around me feels heavier, thicker. Doesn't weigh me down, though. I'm like a shark cutting through a school of fish.

I move in on 'em while they're bawling like bitches. Feels good not to hold back; I'm not gonna lie about that. All these bastards are in their original packaging, not a possessed human in the bunch. It's a good thing the civilians are in the main dining room with Sam and Dad. Don't think a normal human could survive around me when I'm like this. I mean, the air around us is lethal.

Coyote's growling, low and deep, as he takes heads off, drops them where they stand. Several of them catch fire and they burn to a crisp with this startled look on their ugly mugs 'cause I'm not anywhere near them.

Furball's in a nasty mood. I'm not exactly sunshine and roses myself.

I don't think about anything but killing as many of these sonsabitches as fast as I can. They've forgotten about the humans in the main dining hall, forgotten about the harvest. The whole point was to get 'em to focus on us, and that part seems to be working just fine so far.

Maybe it's working a little_ too_ well. I spot this one huge, scaly grey fug in bloody kitchen whites moving towards me through the crowd. He's got a fire ax, and he's staring at me like I'm a pile of logs he wants to split. I can read him like a book. Big body, tiny brain.

Lucky us.

_Gotcha,_ Coyote whispers roughly, and damned if he doesn't start chuckling. He sounds happy. Glad somebody is.

The Old Man gets inside Tiny's head. Turns out Tiny's odd man out. Dude's got issues, thinks the others have been laughing at him, picking on him.

Coyote makes Tiny think they're laughing at him _now_.

He starts using that fire ax on his buddies instead of me. He's real enthusiastic about it. Heads and body parts fly up into the air.

Some of the others turn to go after _him_, and that gives me room to go to work.

Tiny manages to slice and dice quite a few of these fuckers before he goes down permanently. That's one less (and then some) we have to worry about.

I read each one as I kill 'em. Garden variety black eyed demon? That hands on exorcism of mine does just fine. For some of the other critters the silver does the trick. I don't need to do any more. They melt to the floor like that green Wicked Witch chick in the Wizard of Oz.

The Judy Garland version that Sammy and I used to watch, _not _the porn version.

Dad hears the commotion through the link, and I gotta admit it's hard for me to stay calm when I hear his voice._ Dean, what the hell's going on?_

_Kinda busy ---_

I pull this one fugly ass bastard's heart right out of his chest, burn it, toss it and move on to the next.

_--right now---_

The crowd around me gets even bigger. I can't tell where these sonsabitches are coming from. Can't be the patrons. I did a royal number on them when I walked through the room. They weren't in any condition to put up this much fight.

I never stop moving, never stop killing. They're so close, _too friggin' close_, can't get any space around me cleared long enough to do any good. Can't fill my hand with a gun, that's no good in these close quarters.

I can't see Joe Ball anymore. I get a fucking bad feeling right then and there. Don't know why. Something just doesn't seem right, but I'm too busy trying not to get carved up to start wondering why.

I can just about see the frown on Dad's face._ I'm coming out---_

_**NO!**_

Little_ too_ loud. Dad flinches.

_Inside voice, dude. Inside._ Dad's calm, as always.

_You and Sam stay put until we clear this place out. _I stake this one wild-eyed critter with a consecrated iron rod. It turns to dust.

I swing back around just in time to introduce this other one to the olive wood stake I fill my other hand with._ We got this. __**We got this---**_

…_holaghei 'eye heya, lana 'eye, neya… _

The back of my head tingles. My hearing sharpens.

…_holaghei 'eye heya ana l na'eye ya…._

Navajo. Backwards.

_Son of a bitch. _

I see this one fuck creeping towards me from behind. Naked brown skin, orange and black face paint, grey coyote fur.

_Skinwalker. It's a fucking skinwalker---_

"_Yeenaaldlooshii!"_ Coyote snarls. _With it, he goes on all fours. _That's the literal translation. Coyote growls it out like a curse word.

"_Ànt'įįhnii__---" _The sound of the Old Man raging actually hurts my head. He's out of the headspace before I can say _anything_, do _anything_ to stop him. Stop him? Come to think of it, why the hell would I stop him? Damn skinwalkers took our people, killed Redd. About time we got some back.

The skinwalker's legs and arms bend and shift as he goes four legged. He grins when he sees the Old Man coming at him, starts moving so fast he's almost a blur.

Coyote moves with him. I don't pay much attention after that; I got my own problems to deal with.

Meat Cleaver Boy comes at me again, smiling and grinning. I slap the cleaver out of his hand, catch it in mid-air and give it back to him, right between his eyes. He keels over, nice and dead, but instead of some of the others rushing in to take his place, they back up suddenly instead.

That's enough to make the hair at the back of my neck stand straight up and out. That bad feeling I had before gets even worse. This isn't gonna end pretty.

I smell this funky body odor, like beer, stale hair grease and swamp water all mixed in together. There's a faint glint of silver in the air right in front of my eyes.

I jerk back, but I'm not fast enough. The tip of the knife blade slices right across the bridge of my nose. Stings like a bitch, but it could have been worse. A second too slow, and I would have been blinded instead.

I can see Joe Ball's outline as he ghosts around me, fading in and out with every other step. He tags me again, across my left palm this time. White hot pain travels up my arm to my shoulder, and it's so bad I feel like curling up on the floor. He nails me one more time, puts a stripe on the side of my face.

Bastard has this big wide grin on his face. He's gettin' off on this.

_Fuck this._ Third rule: Sometimes you have to take some damage to bring a sonofabitch down.

I fake to the left and dumbass tracks me. He slashes me across my knuckles with that fucking blade of his, but that's okay. He's wide open now. I ignore the pain roaring up my arm and grab him by his knife hand with one hand. I drive my other fist into his face.

Feels like I broke his nose. Good. I pop him again just for the pure bloody hell of it.

Dude might be hard to see right now but he feels solid enough. I tighten my grip and the bones in his wrist snap like twigs, the same way he broke Jenny's wrist just before he killed her. Before he fed her to those damn gators of his.

"How does_ that_ feel, jackass?" I'm enjoying this so much I don't wait for an answer. My fingers slide around his throat and his adam's apple jerks against my palm, once, twice. I pour the Rituale Romanum into his sorry ass at high speed.

Joe Ball comes undone in a burst of bright light and thick black smoke. Straight back to hell on the red-eye express. No stops.

Behind me I hear bodies slamming into each other. Coyote growling, then the snap of bone crunching. I don't have to turn around. I already know what I'm going to see: the Old Man's eyes burning golden yellow as he tosses the skinwalker back and forth in his jaws like a ragdoll.

Thing's still alive. Coyote's making him suffer. Don't know if that's a good thing or not.

Sam, through the link: "Dean? Hole in the back wall's opened up. Dad and I are gonna evac the civilians."

"Go, Sam." I sound calmer than I really am. "We'll meet you outside---"

It all goes south right then and there. Coyote sounds panicked. _Kid, get off the floor. Now!_

Too late for me to keep Sam from hearing _that_. "Dean, what the hell--"

I cut the link off. Whatever's gonna happen to_ us_, Sam and Dad don't need to hear it.

I head for the bar just as the floor underneath my feet starts shaking. I look down, and something I can't see is burning lines, words and symbols in the blood splattered floor. One of the symbols looks like a coyote. The next symbol looks like the outline of a man.

Just looking at it makes my skin crawl, but I get it. This shit is personalized somehow. Something special for me and the Old Man. A binding spell, or containment. Or worse.

_**NAAG HÉI**__**'AH**_

The lines connect the coyote and the man figure together, and I nearly scream like a damn girl right then. Feels like an ice pick just went through both ears, from one side of my head to the other.

_**HÓZH BIK'EH NEYA 'EYE **_

Every muscle in my body tightens up.

_**'EYE, HEYA LANA I' NAAGHEACUTE AH**_

I'm on fire, right down to my bones.

I force myself to move. I stumble forward, and I kick out with my boot, catch this overturned table at just the right angle and flatten four fugs with it. That clears my path. The Old Man makes a break for a cluster of upright tables behind me. The mob moves in to close the gap between us.

We're cut off from each other.

_**'IYE NEYA WOYE**_

Once I get on top of the bar, everything seems to slow down. They keep on coming, and I keep on killing. It's getting harder by the minute. Takes an effort to move. My arms and legs are like lead weights. My head feels like it's gonna explode.

Coyote's growling, or maybe it's me. I don't know. He's biting, snarling and snapping at them as they pull and grab at him. They're all around us now, but we don't stop. We can't.

Dad and Sam need time to make it out. We'll give 'em all the time they need.

Fingers touch my back, just below my shoulder and that's_ it_, I turn around fast, with my right arm fisted, raised up and drawn back, ready to pound whatever the hell this is touching me.

I take one look and stop dead in my tracks.

It's Jenny.

She looks the same as she did the first time I saw her, out in the middle of nowhere. Pale, wide-eyed. Same pink waitress uniform, white apron. Except this time her long wavy red hair is loose, like a halo around her face and shoulders.

She looks scared. Tears stream down her face and right then and there I know Coyote and I are screwed and it's too damn late for me to do anything about it.

I take a pretty good shot to the kidneys from behind, and it staggers me. I hear someone make a sound like "Gnuh…" and I don't even know if it's me doing that.

"Typical," this voice grates in my left ear. "Scrawny mutts like you two come nosing around for scraps."

Everything goes quiet. The fuglies just stand there, staring.

I'm light-headed. Cold all over. Something's not right. I look down at myself, and I pull my duster open.

Metal sticking out of my side. Pointed. Covered with red paint.

Can't put a name to what I'm looking at.

…can't remember how I spilled all that red paint on my shirt…running down my jeans now…

My knees start to buckle. I'm pulled up on my feet by my collar. My muscles aren't working right. Can't turn around. Can't catch my breath…

"Stay with me, kiddo. Don't want ya to miss this." Someone puts their arm around my waist and lifts me up, turns me around. Sets me back on my feet like I'm a fucking store dummy or something.

So I can see. So I can see Coyote.

I see Coyote's eyes dim. Staggering around. Head's too heavy to lift up as he collapses to the floor. I see the grin on the witch's face, wide, and bloody and feral.

"Well, lookie there. Those skinwalker fellas were right all along. Stab one'a you with this pigsticker of theirs, you get both. And those pretty pictures they drew on the floor were just for you two. Kinda makes you all weak in the knees, huh, kid?"

My mouth feels funny. Numb. "…sent you…sent you…back…to hell…"

Joe Ball grins. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. I got friends in low places. You and that mutt of yours pissed off the wrong people, boy. It's sad when a fella's past his prime and just doesn't know when to quit. That little light show you put on? I gotta tell ya, I ain't impressed. Big shot Trickster god and his pet boy. Used to feed mutts like you two to my gators."

Skinwalker. That's what that…thing is. Reaches out and draws a black line down Coyote's face.

Eyelids heavy. Can't stay awake. "..don't… touch…him…."

"Or what? You'll what?" Joe Ball says. "Seems to me you're not in any position to do _anything_, boyo."

Draws another line. Same line goes down my face, and I don't know why.

"You been around to my lil' cement pond yet? Met my pets?"

Can't answer. Throat's closing up. Everything's black around the edges. Getting blacker…

"No? Huh. Got a little taste of what it's like through _her_, didn't you, boy?" Ball nods at Jenny. "Well, here, lemme give you the grand tour out back. It's about showtime, y'know, and my boys are gettin' hungry."

_**000000**_

_**A/N:**_ Took the Navajo words from the Blessing Way, and yeah, it's backwards, the way a skinwalker would use to pervert the meaning.

_**Next:**_ Wednesday. It's Winchesters versus demon alligators at the Sociable Inn.


	9. Branded

_**A/N:** _This was a hard chapter to write, because of all the Coyote angst. Who knew? This is kind of a transitional chapter. Wanted to go right to the violence but my muse wouldn't let me.

_**POV:**_ Coyote

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Dean, John, Sam, or Coyote. Joe Ball was a real-person, and I wouldn't take him on a bet.

* * *

**_Chapter 9 - Branded_**

…_Old Man…_

Sounds like a snake.

_…wake up, Old Man…_

I _hate _snakes.

Reminds me of that time I fell asleep on the banks of the Rio Grande River back in the day. Got swallowed up whole by this big damn worm. Thought he had himself a real good meal.

Until I woke up and chewed my way out.

Somethin' keeps bumpin' against my nose, and it's pissing me off. Can't move. Can't bite whatever the hell this is. My back hurts, and I'm cold all over. I don't even have to open my eyes to know how screwed up this is, 'cause I _never_ feel cold, never get hot either. I'm tired, wrung out, like somebody's spent the last ten years whupping my ass and then some.

_Wake up, little dog…_

Another hard bump. Dammit, that's_ it_. When I open my eyes I see brown skin streaked with orange paint. Grey fur.

Takes me a full minute or two to realize that I'm on the floor. I'm lying on my side. Don't remember how I got there. Head's fuzzy, all stuffed with cotton. Mouth tastes like graveyard dirt and burnt sage.

"Took from you before, Old Man." Happy sonofabitch. He's grinning from ear to ear as he squats down over me. "We always take. Took your life before. And now we take all of _you_."

The fog inside my head lifts slightly.

_Yeenaaldlooshii_.

He jabs me in the nose again with that bone wand of his. Blood's dried now, but I can still hear her screaming. It's his baby sister's thigh bone.

The handle part is wrapped with a piece of his mother's thick black hair. That long string of human teeth and finger bones around his neck rattles and shakes as he moves.

He had a big family and they didn't die easy.

I _had_ this bastard. Had him in my jaws. I remember _that_. Shook the hell out of 'im, wanted to make him suffer before I killed him.

I try to open my mouth, but I can't. I'm bound. Marks on the floor burn into my fur. It's deep magic, binding magic, keyed to me and the boy.

Don't see him anywhere. Can't sense him, either. First time _ever_, I can't…

I don't know where he is.

"You miss your pup, don't you?" the damn skinwalker grins. He grabs handfuls of my ruff, pulls me halfway up from the floor. Bastard turns me around and sets me down on my front legs.

I stay on my feet for a damn split second. I can't feel my front legs. They slide out from under me and my belly slams into the floor. My chin hits so hard my jaws snap together. The witch laughs as he sits down next to me. "Poor Old Man. See? There he is."

_No. _

_My fault. This is all my fucking fault. _

Dean's lying on his back a few feet away from me. They've stripped him down to his waist, taken his t shirt, leather duster and boots off. His eyes are half open. He's staring into space and he doesn't even blink. Only way I can tell he's still alive is by his chest moving as he breathes in and out.

Kid's got the same marks on his face that I have, black stripes down his nose, across his cheeks. A circle drawn across his forehead. His wrists are circled with marks that look like black barbed wire, black circles inside squares on the backs of his hands.

The runes on the floor flow up his side onto his chest, shoulders and back like water. The main rune looks like an upside down triangles inside a circle, and that centers on Dean's chest.

I wanna close my eyes, not look anymore, but I can't. This crap seems familiar somehow. I watch as the symbol burns into Dean's chest, and somehow I know that all the runes on his body are gonna link up to that symbol. The words inside the symbols are Navajo. Backwards. Inverted prayers. Spirals on the soles of his feet, more barbed wire marks around both ankles. He's hobbled.

Dean groans, low and rough, as the marks burn into his skin. His back arches, then he settles slowly back down to the floor. He blinks, but he's not awake. I can't hear him, and I know he can't hear me. We're cut off from each other. Headblind.

Never been this quiet inside my own head before.

That Jenny girl's kneeling beside Dean's head and shoulders. She's just as pale as she was the last time I saw her. She's rocking back and forth, crying, as she touches his face and shoulders. It's like she's apologizing for dying. Apologizing for everything.

_I'm sorry….sorry you came…so sorry…_

Joe Ball's slinking around the two of 'em, drinking out of this tequila bottle he's holding. He kicks Dean hard in the thigh, once, then kicks Jenny hard in the leg with those boots of his. "This is what you get, girl. Thought you had a big damn hero coming to save you, huh? Stupid bitch. You thought wrong."

'm gettin' more pissed off with every passing second.

"Hell, excuse my bad manners." Ball lowers the tequila bottle in front of Dean's face. The worm in the bottle looks like a damn eel, twisting and turning and bumping against the tinted blue glass. "Want a shot?" he says to Dean, and the kid doesn't answer. He can't.

"Huh. Suit yourself. More for me, then." Ball's eyes glitter as he sucks the worm's head down the neck of the bottle, bites it off and chews it up with this scummy, bloody grin on his greasy, ugly mug.

_Son of a bitch…_

When Dean laid his hands on Ball, that exorcism shoulda worked. Ball should be roasting in Hell right now, but he's not. And I don't know _why_ he's not. It's like I'm missing something. Something that I knew all about before.

Not my best moment, y'know? I saw it when Ball faded back in behind Dean. Saw it and couldn't do a thing about it. All I remember is a blur of hands grabbing at me. I was weighed down. Couldn't think straight.

That's no damned excuse. Not makin' any for myself, either. I fucked up big time here. Shoulda stayed inside, watched Dean's back, and what the hell did I do? I came out and got both of us screwed up all to hell.

Black eyes and critters all around, pushing tables back, clearing bodies away. Most of 'em are walking wounded. We tore 'em up pretty good, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

One demon's wearing Dean's duster and boots. I recognize him and his buddy. Four demons jumped us when we first walked into the place. Kid took care of the first two, and these two bitches ran like rabbits. Figures they wouldn't come back until it was safe.

The one wearing Dean's duster and boots stops and leans down, right in front of Dean's face. "Nice gear, asshole."

Dean doesn't react, not even when this bastard hits him in the face. Demon punk just made my List of Things I Have To Kill Today. Slowly.

Ball turns around as the skinwalker gets up, comes gliding up to him. Sees me turned in his direction, and that fucking grin of his gets even wider. He takes another swig, and the tequila's tinted blood red from the eel inside.

Ball walks right up to me, puts the toe of his left boot right next to my jaw. I can't lift my head. "So this is what passes for gods back in the day, huh?" I don't even flinch as he kicks me in the head. "Flea bitten mutt."

The skinwalker crouches over and around Dean, running his fingers all over his body, nodding and grinning to himself.

Wanna kill 'em all. Every last one of them. I try to move…

_**NAAG HÉI'AH**_

… and all I feel is burning heat all over my body…

_**HÓZH BIK'EH NEYA 'EYE **_

…as the runes burned into my fur flare up…

_**'EYE, HEYA LANA I' NAAGHEACUTE AH**_

…glow from coal black…

_**'IYE NEYA WOYE**_

…to white hot.

Everything goes white in a heartbeat. I forget how to breathe, and all I can hear inside my head is my damn heart hammering away against my ribs. I come out of the white-out gasping and choking and Ball's standin' over me, laughing and grinning.

I'd give anything t'be able to turn around and rip his fucking throat out.

I try to move again, and the runes heat up. Again.

Ain't gonna lie to you. Second time's just as bad as the first time. I come out of the fog jerking and twitching, foaming at the mouth. Heat rises from my fur, stings my eyes and I can't catch my breath. But…

It's different this time, like the pain is clearing my head.

I remember back in that town in Illinois, when Mary Winchester came back, just long enough to talk to the boy, to tell him not to give up hope. She told him that he and I were like newborns, and that if we'd tried to stop ol' Yeller the night she died he would have killed us both, so there wasn't any point to either of us feeling guilty about her dying, because she said it was her time.

Things got a little hectic after that. Dean never asked me, and I sure in the hell never told him, but she was right.

Not about that bein' her time. I'm not talkin' about _that_. Don't like the fact that she died, either. After all this time I still think there was something I could've done. I'm talking about me and the boy being like newborns.

Never told anyone this before, not even the kid, y'know? I didn't come back the same way I have before. I don't know whether it was because of the split or not, but I've forgotten some things. Some of it spells. Some of it places I've been, critters I've fought. I'm not one to get all maudlin about stuff like that, and I try not to worry about it, but that's the kinda thing that will come back and bite me on the ass. Like now.

What did that damn yellow-eyed Demon say, that I've forgotten more magic, white and dark, than any other critter out here? Hate to admit it, but that sonofabitch was right, for once.

It comes back slowly. Sometimes all it takes is a scent, or a sound. The way the sky looks at dawn, with the sun rising up into the clear blue sky. Don't get me wrong. I'm not weak, all right?

Ball's standing over me, and seeing me struggle like this must be the fucking funniest thing he's seen in quite a while.

Laugh it up, you sonofabitch. Your undead ass is _mine_.

I stare past his feet, stare at Dean and Jenny. I think about John and Sam, and I hope to hell they got out and kept on going, because this place ain't gonna be fit for anything once I get started.

For just about every spell out there there's a counter spell. This crap is no different. I can feel it. I can almost see it.

_NAAG HÉI'AH_

Some folks say I'm not too bright, kinda lacking in the smarts department. That must be, 'cause I move again, and when the runes fire up I damn near welcome the white out, and the pain.

It hurts. It hurts like a sonofabitch.

_Shaa nídiní'aah_

And I remember.

…_.t'áá na'níle'dii... _

_HÓZH BIK'EH NEYA 'EYE _

…_.bich'i' haasdzíí…_

_'EYE, HEYA LANA I' NAAGHEACUTE AH_

…_. naaniih yich'ááh naabaahígíí…_

_'IYE NEYA WOYE_

Third time. Third time's the charm.

The runes fade back to black again, but they're dead, useless. I play it just right, lay there all wide-eyed and gasping and helpless.

Yeah, okay. It's not _all_ an act. I'd be lying if I said it was. But damn it, I can feel myself getting stronger.

"Bad dog." Ball laughs. He leans down, pats my head like I'm his fucking pet.

As soon as he touches me I read his sorry ass. It hits me with a jolt. My body shakes all over. I smell swamp water, blood, hellfire and sulfur.

I know why this bastard didn't stay down in hell. I know why Dean's exorcism didn't work.

And I know that unless I get my ass in gear, _and I mean right the hell now_, things are gonna get worse.

"Yeah, it's sad when a fella's past his prime and doesn't know when to quit." Ball gives me another rough pat upside my head.

I close my eyes then, and I'm not doing it because I'm afraid or sad or anything like that. I'm doing it because there's this whisper inside my head, soft and scratchy at first, then louder, rough and whiskey smooth all at the same time.

_---damn it, somebody better answer me. Dean? Coyote?_

It's John.

_**0000000**_

_Yeah. It's me._

_Coyote?_

_Yeah. I'm not the one you were hoping to hear from, am I?_

_You're thinking out loud, Old Man. We heard that._

_Damn._

_Let's drop that crap right now, okay? Where's Dean?_

_He's…here. Hurt. _

_How bad?_

_They used spells to bind him. He's out. I think it's because he's more…human than I am. I'm getting better. Ball's back._

John grunts._ Figured as much. That hole in the back wall closed up just as we got the civilians out. Sam and I are still in the dining room. Got cut off. _

I laugh, but there ain't nothing funny about any of this._ This just keeps gettin' better and better, huh?_

Sam snort-chuckles._ We've had better days. _

_What's the situation in there?_ I recognize the tone in his voice, same subtle tone of command Dean's heard all his life. John the father has switched up. I'm talking to John the hunter now.

_Ball's just the front man in all this. Sometimes…sometimes higher level demons will piggyback onto a lesser one…especially if a lesser one is thought of topside all the time. Internet, movies, you name it._

John sighs deeply. _Damn. _

_That's why Dean exorcising him didn't work. They brought him back. _I can almost hear the wheels turning inside that Sam kid's head.

I'm getting stronger now. _They do it to preserve their power. That's what this is. In return the lesser one gets to roam the earth, do all the things that got 'em condemned to hell in the first place. Whole new place, whole new set of victims. Anybody tries to send the bastard back south is in for a surprise. The ones doin' the piggyback can pull 'em right back out. _

_How many higher ups? _Sam asks, and I nearly flinch. Just reminds me how I fucked this all up. I should have known. _I should have._

I got to make this right. And John and Sam can't be anywhere around me when I do.

_Don't know. Has to be more than one. This bastard's got juice behind him. _I can feel my legs now.

I can feel my power.

_We gotta be smart about this. How many bad guys are around you now? _John comes back at me, and I don't answer.

_Coyote? I said how many?_

_I can…I can handle this myself._

_You're not gonna 'cause you don't have to, _Sam says softly. _We're here. We're not leaving without you and Dean. It'll be okay. It will. _

_No, it won't. _

_You gotta trust us on this. You have to keep the link open. We can see through your eyes._

_You need to get clear. _I don't mean to snarl at Sam, but I do anyway._ Both of you._

_I know you think I tolerate you because you're inside Dean. You got that wrong. _The tone in John's voice makes me stop short. _You're still nervous around me. I get that. Don't blame you for feeling that way, but spending a year down in Hell tends to rearrange a person's thinking, you know? All that crap we went through in that town back in Illinois? I haven't forgotten that, either. You're my child, same as Dean and Sam. I told you that before, and I meant what I said._

I don't say anything. I can't. Haven't forgotten _that_. I tried to, 'cause I don't…trust it. That's one memory I could do without.

It stays with me anyway.

"_I haven't been your dad for quite some time. All this time I treated you like you were a soldier, not my son. I got a second chance now, thanks to both of you. I want to try being your dad again."_

_I don't like it when John looks at me. I press up against Dean's leg, and I'm shaking like a damn girl, but I don't move. _

_John puts his hand out to us. The same hand he's used to kill folks like us. "Son, please…"_

_Don't move. Don't move. Please, niño, don't move…_

_Dean sways on his feet, and then he takes a stumbling step forward. My legs almost go out from under me. _

_I nearly lose it then. _

"_You're my sons. __All of you are.__ I'm asking for a second chance."_

_I can't leave the kid. I slink forward after a moment's hesitation. I press myself tightly against the side of Dean's leg as he steps into John and Sam's arms._

John's voice softens inside my head now._ We're stronger as a family. That's why we're out here. We stick together, no matter what. I'm not ordering you. I'm asking you. Dean needs help. We need recon. You have to keep the link open. Open your eyes, son. Please._

So I do.

_**000000**_

Next update this week. It will be a "smorgasboard of violence", to quote Popeye. John, Sam, and Coyote bust loose, and Dean meets Joe Ball's gators.


	10. A trick or two

_**A/N #1: **_Phoebe Davis is a harsh Taskmistress. I'm just sayin'.

_**A/N #2:**_ Oh, btw: Redd and Slymm are feline women, Coyote's "family" and companions from earlier on. Thomas is Coyote's son-in-law, the human husband of Coyote's daughter, Bertha Two Dogs. Confused? Well, go read Dog Eat Dog.

_**POV:**_ Coyote

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own John, Sam, Dean or even Coyote. Darn.

* * *

_**Chapter 10 – A trick or two**_

The humans out on the parking lot walk quietly and calmly to their cars. I can hear John's voice inside their heads, with that weird echo behind it.

_You're going to get as far away from this place as fast as you can. You're going to stay calm while you do, and you will not stop for anything. You won't remember anything about this place. It never happened. _

Even the humans that walked in on foot are quiet, peaceful. They climb into some of the other people's cars, and I know there's not gonna be any trouble between any of them.

_Once you get to a populated area they're going to stop and let you out of the car. You're going to thank them for the ride and walk away. Quietly, _John rumbles. No doubt in my mind that they're all gonna do_ exactly_ what he says.

_Damn. _Gotta admit, I'm impressed.

First time I've ever worked with John and Sam. It's different. Me and Dean go back and forth at each other. Whoever said "two sides of the same coin" didn't know the half of it when it comes to me and my kid.

But John? I can't figure him out. He called me _son_. First time in my whole damn life anybody's _ever _called me that, and it sounded like he really meant it.

Huh.

Can't read him most of the time. I don't even think he realizes it. Probably what makes me kinda nervous around him. Some folks have natural shielding and I do believe big John's one'a them.

Sam's different. I can_ hear_ that kid's brain working. He thinks _loud_. I like that.

Funny thing is, none of the fugs react to the sounds of the cars. They don't even move towards the doors to look out. Got a feeling about _that_, but it's okay.

I know a trick or two.

I gotta take care of Dean right now. He went under deeper than I did 'cause he's more human. I reach out with my mind, slow and careful, and I draw the power out of those binding runes all over the kid's body.

_Shaa nídiní'aah t'áá… _

I take the heat and the pain away from him, pull it all into my own body.

…_na'níle'dii bich'i' haasdzíí…_

I barely feel it. Guess there are perks to being a fugly, huh?

…_. naaniih yich'ááh naabaahígíí…_

Heartbeat's slow. Breathing's shallow, but he's still alive. I can hear the blood rushing through his veins. Alive's damn good. I'll take it.

_...s-sorry…_

_What'cha apologizing for, pup? _Hearing that low hoarse whisper inside my head makes something tight inside my chest loosen up.

What? That ain't emo, damn it. Just finding out how the kid feels, is all. _What some folks won't do to get out of work. _

…_can't…move…_

_Laying down on the job, huh, Ace? _There's real affection in John's voice, same as there was for me, and the corners of Dean's mouth twitch.

…_Dad…_

_Rest easy, kiddo. We can handle this. _

_Hey, Dean. _Sam says softly. I can feel the relief in his voice.

…_S-Sammy…_ Dean struggles to stay awake, but it's a battle he's losing. He drifts off again and both John and Sam get quiet. I know what's on their minds. Might just let them do the honors first, just sit back and watch them kick Joe Ball's ass. And wouldn't _that_ be a sight to see?

Five minutes later some of the critters from the kitchen force open the door to the main dining area. They go in with fire axes and meat cleavers and come back out a couple of minutes later.

Nothing.

Joe Ball watches everything as he stands there drinking out of that tequila bottle of his. The bottle's filled with bits of that damn worm inside, blood and tequila all mixed in together. He's on my shit list, but that damn skinwalker is first, no doubt about it. He's havin' a fine old time crawling all over the kid, trying to get Dean to open his eyes. Witch bastard takes a swipe at Jenny with that bone wand of his, and he laughs when he sees her flinch.

Gonna put a stop to all that _real_ quick.

I start whimpering like a newborn puppy, all weak and helpless.

_Come on over here. I'm a lot more fun to play with._

I see John and Sam off to the side, moving among the critters. They look just like the rest of 'em. Nobody notices them but me.

I whimper again, all low and scratchy. That does the trick. The witch's head snaps around. That grin gets wider, and here he comes on all fours. He gets nose to nose with me, and that's all it takes.

_Gotcha. _

Blink and you'll miss it. We switch places. I look like him, and he's me, lying on the floor, weak and helpless. Only thing is those runes burned into his fur are the real deal. He's not moving. Ever.

I rip into his mind so damn hard and so fast he'll be a vegetable when I pull out again. Ask me if I care.

Bastard's been around my family, my lost ones.

I can sense Slymm, huddled underneath a rock overhang out in the middle of nowhere at night, cold, wet and miserable. She's hurt. Her left arm's hanging useless by her side. Her fur's dirty, matted. Little sister thinks we've forgotten her. Thinks family doesn't care about her anymore.

Red rock swirls up into the night air all around her.

I see Thomas, laughing, red-eyed and possessed. He's standing in a small cave, and the rock walls twist and turn around him, upward, layer upon layer. The wind in the rocks sounds like voices, distant, far away.

I know where this is. I do. Antelope Canyon, Arizona.

I wanna throw my head back and howl. Instead I slam the witch in the head a couple of times with that bone wand of his. Hard.

Gotta keep up appearances, right? Besides, I enjoyed it.

Joe Ball laughs, and so does the witch.

…_Not tricky enough…_

I see the glamour I cast over John and Sam fall away. They're open, exposed now, surrounded by these bastards on every side. I rise up on my hind legs. My fur bushes out as I get bigger, man sized, all teeth and claws. Dean saw me do this once, said I reminded him of that werewolf from that movie. _Van Helsing,_ I think it was. With that Hugh Jackman fella.

I fell asleep on that one.

Joe Ball steps back from me, and he's grinning, wide and cheerful. It's all wrong, and I know it, but I don't care. I crouch down, ready to spring on him, and my head fills with screaming white static. Feels like somebody jammed ice picks through both ears. I hit the ground but I stumble forward, clawing and snapping at him, and he moves out of my way, still laughing.

I don't wanna give them the satisfaction of hearing me yell out, but that's one promise I can't keep. I howl with pain as the runes around my feet flare up, coil around my legs. They whip up from the floor like black vines, lash my jaws closed like some fucking muzzle.

John and Sam disappear, flicker out as I lose my concentration. I'm tangled up but good. Can't move, breath's cut in half as the damn things wrap around my chest. I'm jerked forward, down on my knees, and all I can think of is that we don't do easy.

Never have, never will.

_**000000**_

Joe Ball walks over to the skinwalker lying on the floor. His eyes are glazed over. Mouth's open, and he's drooling all over himself.

The lights are on, but nobody's home. Gone for good.

Gee, I'm all broken up about that.

"Well now, you surely did a number on this one, didn't you, Old Man?" Joe Ball nudges the witch with his boot. "Oh well. Guess that means our deal with his folks is null and void, then. Change in plans."

_Hungry, _this voice inside my head rumbles. I smell swamp water and sulfur. The word schoes out into this low, hollow hissing sound

The back wall behind the bar fades into nothing. The outer courtyard is back there, with this tall stone wall beyond that. The whole place back there is bigger than I thought it would be. Must've been what was behind that door that Dean tried to bust through earlier.

The rest of the murder victims are out there, pale, torn, and transparent, standing around near the water's edge. They look like they did when they died. Stab wounds in their chests, rope burns around their wrists and ankles. Some of them are missing arms, part of their legs and torsos. I see bite marks, heads caved in. They're hollow-eyed, silent and waiting, and that swamp water smell gets stronger.

The water in the pond ripples, and their dead eyes widen as they flinch back.

Joe Ball picks the yeenaaldlooshii up by the neck, and tosses him out towards the back. The witch goes flying. He's about thirty feet above the pool when something huge with white scales and red eyes comes surging up out of the water.

It's the biggest damn gator I've ever seen. In life. I can only see half of it, about twenty feet, as those jaws open and snap the witch up like he was a damn peanut.

The fuglies all around start clapping and cheering.

"There's more to come, my pets!" Ball roars. The gator falls back beneath the water, and the pool overflows into the Inn, all the way into the empty main dining area. Place smells like swamp water and sulfur now.

Dark shapes slide under the water, and one by one four gators break the surface and pull themselves onto land. They look normal, grayish green, but they're huge sonsabitches, about twenty five feet long. Their eyes are black. Pitch black.

The albino is the last one to crawl out. Bastard's forty feet long. It turns its head towards me, and its eyes flash red. It's grinning at me like we're old friends. Close friends, and about to get even closer.

_Hello, little wild dog._

The runes tighten up all around me. I'm having trouble breathing. This is old magic. Ancient, as old as I am.

Good thing is, I just found out what the hitch-hikers are. Bad is I can't do anything about it. My nose is wide open as I pick up the scent. I know I smelled this before. Don't remember right away, and then it hits me. I growl, low and deep in my throat, and all of the gators turn their heads towards me, grinning.

They're Ilimu. Demon bastards me and the kid ran into back in Vashon, Illinois. They specialize in animal possession, man-eaters and such, but these five aren't possessed. They're the First Ilimu, the originators, the spirits from which the rest came from.

"Shook hell pretty good when you closed the hellmouth in that town," Ball takes another drink, gulps down a chunk of worm flesh and chews it thoughtfully. "Don't think they were too thrilled either, with their clan getting snatched like that, all because of you and your boy."

Sumbitch has got _that_ part wrong, but I'm in no mood to correct him.

"See, originally we were supposed to get just you, and the witches would get your boy. Well, my benefactors decided that arrangement didn't work for us anymore. If there was something all that special about the kid here," Ball nudges Dean in the hip with his boot.

Dean doesn't move.

"Well then, it wouldn't make sense to give up such a valuable prize, now would it?"

Ball steps up to me and smashes the tequila bottle against the side of my head. The crowd bellows and hisses their approval.

I see red then. I lunge at him as far as I can, snapping and snarling. I come up short and Ball laughs. He walks over and grabs Jenny by the hair, pulls her to her feet. "Get out there with the rest of those sorry bitches, darlin'. I want you to see this. Want you to have a ringside seat. Front and center."

Jenny staggers forward. She changes just like the rest of them out there, becomes even paler, bruises blooming all over her grey dead skin. She stumbles forward and falls on her knees as half her leg up to her thigh melts away. I see white bone, and she clutches herself, tries to hold herself in with one hand as she crawls forward. Half her right torso is gone.

"It was a match made in hell, y'know?" Ball turns back to me. "What were the odds I'd hook up with demons like them, huh? After I died they called me the Alligator Man. The Butcher of Elmendorf. I got websites devoted to me. One'a the local sheriffs wrote a book about me. Feller from Hollywood made a movie, too. Wouldn't ya just know it, he got the details wrong, but hey, what can you do, huh? Point is, I had an easy way back topside. I had prospects. No wonder they came to me with a deal."

He nods towards the pool. "I was down in hell when they came to me with a business proposition. Good deal, you know. Win win for everybody. Well, not you and yours, of course. These bastards appreciate a good time. I can give it to 'em. Man with my business skill an' expertise, I know just how to draw the crowds in. I can move forward with the times. See, they appreciate a man with my business expertise."

I shake the bits of glass, drops of tequila and worm blood and bits out of my fur. Something's making ripples in the water behind Ball, and I feel the corners of my muzzle twitch upward in a smirk.

"Well, it's time for you to meet your betters, old dog," Ball drawls. "I'm really gonna enjoy this."

Yeah, I am too.

Dumb and Dumber walk up. The demon wearing Dean's duster and boots leans down, grabs the boy by the arms. Don't like the way Dean's head hangs to one side, too loose, almost lifeless. I can still hear his heartbeat. I gotta stay focused. "Get his legs will you. This bastard is heavier than he looks."

Dumb fidgets, and just as he leans down the water around him ripples and splashes and his legs go out from under him. He goes into the water heels over head, lands hard on his back.

Dumber stares. The water around him does that same kinda funny ripple, and in another second he's flying through the air. Same hard landing.

Ball stares at me hard, then flinches as someone taps him on the top of his shoulder from behind. He knows he's screwed even as he turns around, and he turns around anyway. The air behind him darkens, grows solid. He's hit in the face and goes flying backwards into the far wall.

John Winchester stands there, scowling and royally pissed. That growl of his vibrates the air."You get your damn hands off my sons."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Sam step into view. Kid's lit up like a Christmas tree with raw power. The air and the water around him churns and boils as he moves everything around us with his mind. Tables break apart into splinters, everything that isn't nailed down flies into the air. Several of the fugs try move towards him with fire axes and meat cleavers.

Big mistake.

Sam picks his targets as John moves in on Joe Ball.

The runes holding me dry up and slide away. It's time to go to work.

_**000000**_

Yeah, I know. I promised a smorgasbord of violence, but this wasn't the way this story came out.

Next chapter: Dean and the gators, and Coyote, John and Sam go all out.


	11. Ties That Bind

_**A/N #1 – **_The old Man cusses sometimes just as much as Dean does. Also, on the subject of the Navajo language --- Coyote's prayer? I made it up. If there are any Navajo people reading this, I certainly do not mean to offend you.

_**A/N #2**_ – Did you know that PADavis can toss an enraged Siamese cat with killer accuracy? Be afraid. Be _very _afraid.

_**Disclaimer: **_This is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

_**POV: **_Coyote

* * *

_**Chapter 11 – Ties That Bind**_

Joe Ball sees his death in John Winchester's eyes.

"So these freaks are your sons, huh?" Damn fool laughs. John punches Ball twice in the face.

The fugs fall back as Sam throws everything at them, broken furniture, metal and sharp glass. I get my licks in, even though that isn't part of the original plan. All the fake plastic wood gets changed into hawthorne wood, the metal and glass into salt and silver.

And the water on the floor? Holy water.

Climbing up on the bar and tables doesn't do any damn good, 'cause Sam makes everything collapse right back into the water. All that screaming and yelping is music to my ears. I want to go even further, wipe 'em all right off the face of the earth and that's when I hear John's rumble inside my head.

_Save something for the fight, Old Man. Killing Ball's sorry ass won't mean a damned thing if those gators are still around._

"Winchester, huh? Big damn hero, right?" Ball's grin is wide and bloody as he grins at John. "How'd you like it down in Hell, Johnny boy?"

John nails Ball in the face again. Two of the vengeful spirits think they can sneak up on John from behind. He pulls his shotgun out from underneath his coat and hits them with a load of rock salt. They disappear in a flash, screaming and shrieking.

I'm supposed to start moving, right? That was the plan. Kill the hitch-hikers and end this once and for all? Out in the back courtyard I see five huge demon gators, four black eyed greys and one red eyed albino, the biggest one. They're grinning at me, wide and cheerful.

_Come on out and play, little dog. _

They snap those wide, gaping jaws, lash tails thicker than tree trunks. The ghosts of Joe Ball's victims stand there rooted in one place. They're screaming, high-pitched and fearful. They don't mean any harm, they're the victims here, but that screech they make is pissing me off just the same. I flatten my ears at the sound.

I want them to shut the _hell_ up.

I want to _shut _them up. My heart is dark. Hate to admit it, but I'm scared. Scared I'll lose my family. Scared I've forgotten what I need to send these bastards back down to hell and keep them there. They can always find a way back, find some other weak-minded bastard who likes to prey on humans.

Not _this_ time. I'm going to hell, and the First Ilimu are coming with me.

No big deal. It's one of the few places I _haven't _been. Need to get out more, meet new people, right? John's not gonna like it. Wasn't part of the original plan. Sam? He'll pitch a fit.

Dean? Pissed off won't even _begin_ to cover it. Don't exactly know what will happen if we separate like this, but I know a trick or two. I'll give the kid every advantage I can.

Water's up just below Dean's ears. He's not awake. He's too pale, too quiet. I touch the side of his face with my five-fingered paw, and I close off the link so John and Sam can't hear.

_Think it's time for us to go our separate ways, niño._

I can't hear Dean, just his heart beat. Slow and steady.

_Don't be…don't be mad at me, okay? If I can find a way back, I will. You know I will. _

Nothing.

_I know you'll do right by me. You'll find our lost ones and bring them home, but…I think… this place…this is as far as I can go on this hunt._

Wouldn't be able to do this if he was awake. Wouldn't be able to say this to him, either.

_Esté en la paz, mi pequeño. Caja fuerte de la estancia._

_Be at peace, my little one. Stay safe. _

Damn chick flick moment.

Never have been that good with damn words. Closest thing I can come up to describe our connection is that saying "the ties that bind." Everybody's heard of that one.

You humans can't see it, but it looks like a thread. A cord. You all have it. Ties to family, friends, things you love. The one that links me to the kid is about as thick as a human's wrist. It's silver sometimes. On this plane of being I don't even notice it at all, and neither does Dean.

Sam's waiting me like a hawk as he forces the fuglies back. John's got Joe Ball by the shirt as he punches him again. "Old Man," John snarls as he punches Ball again. "Sometime this year would be pretty damn good."

I cut the connection between me and Dean halfway. I cut it and push it all back into him. Just like that.

Don't know if it's gonna work for a minute. I dunno, I expect him to disappear in a flash of light or something. Not hardly. My boy keeps right on_ being. _He takes in a breath, and it's ragged. His chest hitches, then he lets the breath out, slow and steady.

At least I didn't fuck_ that_ up.

Sam looks at me funny, almost like he knows what I'm up to. Can't really tell. I do know it's the first time he's ever seen me like _this._ You can't get any more fugly than a nine foot tall coyote walking on two legs. I look like something he'd hunt.

Sam glances down at his brother and the water Dean's lying in pulls away from him, forms a wall all around him.

"I got him. It's all right," Sam grates out. The air around him is swirling all kinds of yellow, light and dark. The water all around Dean is lit up with the same colors. Sam's got him now. I need to get moving. Sam doesn't have much more left in him. He's tired, pale. I figure he's got another five minutes left.

Plenty of time for me to do what I have to.

John makes the suggestion out loud that some of the fuglies near him start fighting each other, and sure enough, they start hacking away at each other.

I take one last glance at my kid as I back up.

'm alone in my head.

All alone in there, first time in years.

And I fucking _hate_ it.

The gators smile and show their teeth.

Just like I hate_ them_.

_Don't be afraid, Old Man…_

I turn around to face them. I gather up everything I have.

_Everything._

_**I am the wayward son of the First People…**_

I get bigger, heavier. The air and water around me ripples. Once, then twice.

_**God's Dog…First Artist…**_

When I growl, the sky rumbles overhead. Thunder answers me back. The wind picks up.

_**You have not seen my like before or since.**_

My teeth and claws get bigger and longer. The gators look bored. They're not impressed. They're First.

But damn it, so am I.

I drop to all fours as I run forward, but I don't change back. About ten of the more hardier kitchen critters ignore the burn of the holy water and get between me and the gator pool. They've got meat cleavers and fire axes. Doesn't matter. None of this does. It's the last mistake they ever make.

_Ever._

I swipe at the one in the lead with my right paw and rip his head off. I get the next sonofabitch in my jaws, and I shake him like a rag doll. Tastes foul. Nasty. Rotten meat and sulfur and I don't give a fuck as he comes apart in mid-air.

It feels good to kill like this. Good not to hold back.

The air around me is filled with loose heads and torn limbs as I go onto the next one, and the one after that. I chew and claw my way through them, spit out blood and flesh and bone that tastes like sulfur.

Lightning splits the sky above as I hit the edge of the gator pool, and I'm right in the middle of all five of them as I take my next breath.

_W__uya kwaina __wushahai 'Azhé'é' Ya, Ne-he-mah ni'_

_I call upon Father Sky, Mother Earth…_

The albino and one of the greys fall back.

…_kachina dah sizí yiiská…_

…_and all the kachina… _

One of the others glides around behind me. He jumps on my back and clamps his jaws down on my left shoulder. Hurts like hell, and he never stops grinning, never stops chewing on me.

…_ekele husen mdawi… _

…_of the earth, air and sky… _

Storm's rising. Won't be long now.

…_shinaabe akbaal tsitot_

…_to protect and to heal… _

Thunder rumbles overhead.

Another one grabs my right leg by the thigh. My leg nearly buckles as this bastard bites down hard.

… _newah diu shahietu…_

… _your wayward son…_

The third darts forward, sinks his teeth into my left paw. Can't help it. I throw my head back as I howl in pain. Got 'em right where I want 'em, and here comes the fourth and last grey. He clamps his jaws on my lower left side.

…_söhöna medeo __wuhti…_

…_in his hour of need…_

I pull the water back towards me, away from John, Sam and Dean. It rises around my ankles, around the legs of the remaining fuglies as Sam pushes them back with his mind. He's tired.

John holds onto Joe Ball. Big John's helping me, and he doesn't even know it. When the gators go, Ball will too.

The albino stands up on its hind legs. We're face to face, eye to eye. The air's charged with energy that rustles my fur, makes waves in the water all around us. The gator lunges towards me with its mouth wide open.

My eyes flash gold as I call down the lightning. It rolls over me, through me, from my head down to my feet, everywhere they touch me, and out through the water and back into the Sociable Inn.

Everything flares white hot.

* * *

Can't breathe…can't…water in my nose and mouth…

I raise my head up and something heavy slams me back down beneath the water. It's all wrong. I know that even before I come fully awake.

Didn't work. They're still here.

Got rid of only half of the bastards in the Inn. Only half. The First Ilimu are still here. All of them.

Parts of me aren't.

Right leg's half gone…left paw, side, shoulder, and the gators laugh at me as they gulp down the chunks of my flesh.

_Choke on it, you sonofabitch---_

The albino gator sinks beneath the water, circles around grinning at me like we're long lost buddies. The others pile on top of me, hold me down beneath the water.

_We like you, Old Man. Like the way you taste. Wonder if your pup and his family taste as good as you do?_

_No…_

They've got John. And Sam. Rest of the bastards beat the hell out of them. John and Sam are unconscious, held up on their knees by the edge of the gator pool.

_Think we'll start with your cub first. _

Water's murky at first. Then my vision clears and I see someone else in the pool, floating upright underwater in front of me.

I see pale freckled skin, spiky blond hair.

No.

Dean's just as still and quiet as he was the last time I saw him. His head's tilted back. Arms hanging down at his sides. He's limp. No bubbles. No breath.

No. I killed them.

I killed my family.

Gnuh…The back and sides of my head nearly explode from pressure as one of the gators takes my head in its mouth and squeezes. Can't feel my body, can't feel anything but the same pressure around my chest. I'm being eaten alive. I can feel it. And I can't stop it…

_He'll make a good mouthful. _

I can still see. And I wish I couldn't. The albino opens its jaws, clamps down on Dean's chest and and shakes him like a rag doll. Its massive tail flips as it goes into a death roll.

The water darkens with Dean's blood.

_You both will._

* * *

_**Next chapter will be posted Sunday.** _


	12. No Sale

**Chapter 12 – No Sale**

**A/N –** Okay, I'm late with this. Phoebe, step away from that enraged Siamese cat. Wendy, I made everything with the boys right again. I did. Really!

**POV -** Coyote

**Disclaimer –** I don't own the Winchesters, or Coyote. Damn it.

* * *

I've died before, but never like this.

Eaten alive's a first for me, and there's no coming back, not this time, they'll take what we have inside and use it all and it hurts like hell as they rip into me, water burns my lungs, can't breathe, but I can see and Dean's all pale and limp in that demon's jaws in all that bloody water and I know John and Sam's next I killed my family, lost my loved ones can't end like this, it can't I scream inside my head, I howl and I'm scared and mad and sad all at the same damn time and at first I think it's just an echo inside my own damn head, but I hear it again. It's rage and sadness dark blood and sunshine in the water, so bright I can't see anything at first.

Everything stops.

Bits and chunks of my fur and flesh float by me, all lazy and unconcerned. Light's so damn bright it hurts my eyes. I close my eyes to slits, and even that doesn't do any fucking good. When I can see again there's a pair of bright golden eyes off in the distance, like searchlights through fog.

At first I think it's some other hell thing the Ilimu demons called forth, but it's not.

It's my kid. It's Dean.

_

* * *

_

The bastard with my head in his jaws growls just then. I feel it more than hear it, and the next thing I know I'm flying out of the water. I hit the brick wall behind me face first, and everything goes white for a second. I hit the ground on my belly so hard my jaws slam shut. Nearly bit the tip of my tongue off. Can't breathe for a moment, and I'm not all here. Parts of me are missing, my left paw, right leg.

Sonsabitches still have John and Sam down on their knees, unconscious, their heads hanging down right at the water's edge.

The center of the gator pool all lit up with that bright light. The albino's nowhere to be seen, and the others slide into the water towards the opposite side, towards John and Sam.

'm sprawled out flat on my belly. Try to get up, and I don't get too far. The light in the gator pool flares up, just the light, and it feels like somebody just put an ice pick right between my eyes.

I hit the ground again. Can't move, can't breathe. 'm trapped inside my head, my body.

Everything changes all around me and I can't stop it.

I smell wind, wide open spaces, and rain. All wrong, I know it is. It's a different time now, forward, somewhere, somewhen. It's all wrong, and I just lie there with my eyes closed, feelin' like a damn chickenshit.

I don't know what I'm gonna see when I open my eyes.

I open my eyes anyway.

I'm lying in grass, about twenty feet away from the edge of a cliff. Huh. Grand Canyon. The sky overhead is pitch dark, boiling over with clouds. Can't tell if it's day or night, can't see the sun or the moon. That bothers the hell outta me, and I know it's only gonna get worse.

I look down at myself and I got my left paw back. I'm not bloody or chewed up anymore. Feel tired though. Just wanna curl up in a ball and sleep for a decade, but I can't.

First thing I see are the ten wooden crosses set in the ground near the edge of the cliff. Headless bodies tied to the crosses, six men, four women. I see yellow bones, tattered flesh and muscle. I can sense the protection amulets in their pockets. I can see the amulets strung around their necks. Their clothes are torn and ragged, dusty and bloody, but I smell gunpowder and silver. Holy water. All that didn't do them any damn good.

They're hunters. Well, they _were_.

Second thing I see is Dean.

He's standing near the cliff edge with his back to me. His hair's grown out now, an even lighter blond than it was before, grown out down to the small of his back. It moves and blows in the air around him. Kid's gone tribal on me; he's naked except for this brown leather loincloth. I can't see how the rest of him looks, but I can sure as hell see what he's got in his hands: two human skulls, one in each hand.

He raises his arms up, turns his face up to the sky. He's invoking help for something, from gods and spirits. I can't hear him. I'm headblind, but somebody else does. Dean crushes the skulls in each hand, and lightning splits the sky overhead.

I lay there quiet, trying to hear what he's saying, and I can't. I can't hear anything but Dean's two heart beats, one slightly out of sync with the other.

He's gone dark. I can feel it. He's gone dark, but I haven't. We're not connected. Not in _this_ time. Not anymore.

Lightning strikes the ground over and over again off in the distance, from one end of the horizon to the other. The ground shakes.

I smell death in the air.

Large scale death, like nothin' I've ever smelled before. Cities, towns. Hundreds. Thousands of people. Gone. All gone.

I'm staring at Dean hard enough to draw his attention, so it ain't that big of a shock when he turns around and looks at me. All I can do is just stare at him.

His eyes aren't green anymore. His eyes are filled with gold, light and dark swirling all together. That large tattoo on his right shoulder is a snarling coyote done in bronze ink. The head and jaws are on his shoulder, one of the forepaws curves down Dean's arm. The rest of the tat goes down his side. The tail curves down low over his stomach. He's got a wide silver bracelet on his upper right arm, slave bracelets with rings attached on both hands.

That v-shaped silver and black metal thing around his neck's a slave collar. I saw enough of 'em, way way back in the day. Dean's taken the damned thing and made it his own, strung cowrie shells, silver and gold and silver beads and charms all over it. Several of the charms look like empty shell casings. One's an upside down Christian cross. He's still wearing that horned amulet Sam gave him for Christmas, when they were kids. Doesn't make me feel any damn better.

Dean just stands there, staring at me, like he doesn't quite know what to expect, like_ I'm_ the one who's all wrong. I try to say something out loud, and all I can do is whine like a newborn pup.

"Kid, what….what happened here?"

Dean stares at me, and he frowns a little. I can't read him. 'm still alone in my head, and I hate it. Then that line between his eyes smooths out, and he shrugs. He kneels down beside me and puts his hand down on the top of my head. His fingers card thru my fur and I can't help it, I lean into his touch. Doesn't matter if he's turned. Doesn't matter if we've split. He's _family_. He's _home_.

"You're sick. You keep forgetting, Old Man. They killed Dad. And Sam." Dean sounds like he's 'plained this to me a thousand times before.

He turns back to the sky. It's pitch dark, and the wind is howling, but none of that touches us.

Might be a stupid question, but I ask it anyway. "They who? The gators?"

Dean shakes his head no. "The world."

Lightning cuts the sky in half."They took Dad and Sam from us," Dean says calmly as he strokes my fur. "Tried to take you, too." He closes his eyes, tilts his head back a little as he scents the death rising in the air. "So I take from them." He smiles a little as lightning scours the earth. "I take it all."

Scary thing is, there's no heat in his voice. He's not mad. Just calm and determined to kill everything living on earth.

Thunder shakes the air again, so heavy and fierce seems like the ground's gonna crack wide open around us. 'm so tired I close my eyes.

* * *

I jerk awake, and everything's changed again.

I can hear John and Sam through the link. John pulls that blade he got from Ruby and starts slashing and killing everything black-eyed around him and Sam. Dumb and Dumber made the mistake of holding Sam. Sam takes hold of them with his mind, throws Dumb all the way back into the Sociable Inn.

Dumber's wearing Dean's duster and boots. Dumber gets tossed into the drink, wailing and screaming as he breathes in holy water. He sinks beneath the surface and steam rises from that spot.

Sam's back on his feet now, and the air around him turns full out lethal as he raises his arms. The crowd of fuglies fall back. Sam nails the ones John doesn't get, and I see Joe Ball's cowardly greasy ass using the others around him as a shield.

Everything they ripped off me, chewed outta me is growing back. It's about fucking time. I flex the fingers of my left paw, and I grin a little as my claws get longer. I wanna kill something. Demon, critter,_ something_.

Somebody up there must be listening to me, because one of the black-eyed gators lunges at me out of the water. He's grinning at me and I grin right the hell back as I dig into his soft underside with my teeth and claws. Two of the others decide to try their luck, and I gut them like I did the first one. I break backs, tear limbs off, and I know it's only temporary. They'll be back, 'cause Joe Ball's still topside.

Number four comes at me, and we slam against each other snapping and snarling. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the first gator starting to pull himself back together.

I'm yelling so loud John and Sam flinch.

_**DAD ---**_

And I don't realize what I said until later.

_**DAD!**_

The water in the gator pool's all lit up now, gold light all underneath the surface. Can't sense Dean. No sign of the albino gator.

**Pull the trigger on Ball, Dad …**

John and Sam look startled.

_**Pull it…**_

Damn gator clamps onto my right shoulder. I howl in pain and rage and sink my claws into his soft underbelly.

_**No sale…no sale…**_

Sam parts the crowd of fugs like Chuck Heston playing Moses at the Red Sea. Another second and John's got Ball by the throat again. Ball obviously thinks that John's gonna start whaling on him again.

John doesn't.

John starts talking to him with that weird echo in his voice.

_"It's all over now, princess. You won't be able to weasel your way out this time. Bexar County deputies are here. John Gray and John Klevenhagen, remember? Once they take your sorry ass down to San Antonio you'll be screwed for good." _

Ball gets wide eyed as John talks to him.

"…can't do jail…" Ball sways on his feet.

"_That's right, you can't. It's over, it's time for you to go. Right back to hell where you belong. And where you'll stay. You won't come topside ever again, because before you do, you'll remember this, you'll go through this all over again. You got the law after your sorry ass, Joe-Bob. They'll keep coming at you, every minute, every second of the day, for all eternity, over and over again. Remember how it went that day? They came in, said they were taking you in for questioning. You told them you had to lock the place up first. You had a beer. One for the road…"_

"…one for the road," Ball whispers dully.

All four grey gators have pulled themselves back together. I'm not weak like I was before, so they circle around me, grinning, one waiting for the other one to make a move.

"_Then you went over to the cash register and hit the No Sale button."_

"…pulled out my gun…"

_"That's right. You're gonna shoot yourself now. You're going back to hell, and this time you're gonna stay there, no matter what. You're gonna get the fuck away from my family."_ Ball raises his right hand like he has a pistol in it. His hand's empty.

John smirks. _"Now take your sorry ass back down to hell, and take these bastards with you."_

John lets go, steps back as Ball points his hand at his right temple. In the next second Joe Ball's head snaps back. He falls apart into a cloud of fire and dark grey ash that leaves a dark stain on the water.

Sometimes the magic doesn't work.

This time it does.

First one gator goes, and then another and another until all four blink out in a burst of yellow hellfire. Too quick. Too bad. Didn't look like it hurt. Much.

I can smell sulfur, and I know they're not coming back.

The fugs in the Sociable Inn go next. Some of those dumb bastards even try to run. They come apart just like Joe Ball did. Black eyed demons? Not too bright.

Jenny and the other spirits huddle by the fence. Some of them actually start sobbing when I look at them. They're afraid of me. I'm standing there ten feet tall, covered in blood, Some of it's mine. I'm not really listening to them, though. I cock my head to one side and listen, 'cause I hear something. Someone.

Dean walks out of the water.

John and Sam stop dead in their tracks.

Kid's injured. Skin's ripped open where the gator grabbed him. I can see the bones of his ribcage. Everything knits back together. His skin closes up. He shakes himself, like a dog who's just had a bath, sheds his injuries and water. He's bone dry as he steps up to me, and I take a step back. Can't help it.

I can tell by lookin' at him something's not right.

_Dean?_

_I don't…_

The air around him seems wrong. His scent keeps changing. I hear one heart beat, then two. It shifts and changes over and over again. His eyes go from greenish gold to pure gold, and whatever this is gets faster with each heart beat.

_...don't know…_

He looks at me, and he recognizes me. Eyes are greenish gold then. In the next heart beat, next breath, everything changes. He's some other place in time then, and his eyes are pure gold. Tribal gear's back again, then Dean takes another breath and he's standing there bare-chested wearing those ripped and bloody blue jeans, with his duster in his hand. There's something in the air all around him, specks of dark gold and black. There's a faint buzzing sound, like bees.

_…what's wrong with me…_

Something white lunges towards him out of the water from behind. It's that damn albino gator, still here, probably why the Sociable inn is still here. him. Dean turns to face it. He swings the duster in one hand, drops it top of the gator. The underside of the duster glows with that same energy, and that buzzing sound gets louder, angrier. The duster doesn't cover the bastard all the way, just his head. I see what happens next.

Wish I didn't.

Those white scales turn gray. I see the red light in its eyes dim, fade out. There's a yellowish tint to it s skin now, and the First Ilumi withers and dies right before my eyes, turning in on itself. Its hide crackles as it dries out, and finally the whole thing turns to dust in the water.

Dean turns, glances at me over his shoulder. His green eyes spark gold. He smirks at me, only it's different this time. This isn't the Dean Winchester I came here with. This is another one, from _somewhen_ else.

_We got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs. _

With the albino gone, the Sociable Inn quietly fades out all around us. No big bang. Blink and you'd miss it.

Dean stands there staring for a moment. All the tension and energy goes out of his body. He hits the ground. Hard.

* * *

Dean's unconscious. Heart beat's strong and steady, and he's breathing regularly. John and Sam carry him away from this place. They don't wanna hang around here, and I can't say that I blame 'em. Besides, there's nothing else left to do here, at least nothing they can do.

Time for Jenny and her folks to get going.

I shrink down, back to four legs. Way I look now seems to calm 'em right down. I dunno, maybe I looked like I was gonna eat them before.

_I'm sorry, _Jenny says silently.

_For what, girl?_

_Sorry Dean got hurt. So did you. Because of me. Sorry for all of this._

_Don't be. You didn't deserve what happened to you. None of you did. You're free now. You can rest._ The night sky overhead opens up, and brilliant white light streams down onto the ground.

_Go,_ I tell them, gently._ Now._

All twenty of them are skittish at first. They're somebody's sister, somebody's brother. Somebody's lost child. I can only imagine the kind of crap they saw down in hell all these years, while Joe Ball owned them. If I were them I'd be kinda leery myself.

Jenny's the last one to go. She leans down and kisses the top of my head. It's kinda nice, but it startles me too. She steps away from me into the light. She takes one last look at me, smiles, and then the light winks out.

_Huh. _

I across the highway with my head down. Good thing no cars at this time of night. Got way too much time to think. That's not a good thing.

That thing with Dean? That was the future intruding on the present. Huh. Didn't think I knew all those big words, did ya? It's what my boy could become. Any one thing, no matter how small, can throw it all off, change it, for better or for worse. Right now the kid's got me worried, but I'm not gonna show it. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I'm just being damned stupid worrying like this, but…

That bit with the duster, the way Dean killed that First albino…I did that way back when. I'd throw my pelt on people sometimes. Sicken them. Make them die.

I did that only when I was dark.

I run up the damn hill. Can't think of anything past right now. Got my family with me, and I want to see them. All of them, right here, right now.

Five feet away from the top of the hill and the first thing I hear is Dean.

"'m fine. Quit hoverin' over me, Sammy." Dean's leaning against his big black mare as I round the top of the hill. He's got on his duster, along with a grey t shirt from his saddlebag.

I'll never look at that duster the same way again.

Sam's all in Dean's personal space, but Sam grins a little. If Dean feels well enough to bitch, it's okay. _Dean's_ okay.

"Easy, son. Just take it easy." John turns, looks at me and smiles. The skin around his eyes crinkles a little. "You too."

_Oh, crap. Dad._ I called John _Dad. Shit._

Fuck it, I'm too tired to care.

I walk up to John, to Sam and finally Dean. Rub up against their legs like a damn cat. John grins and leans down, runs his fingers down my back. Sam strokes the side of my neck, and I don't give a damn if it is emo, I like the way it feels, damn it.

I look up at the kid and he smiles a little. He's weak, and the smile is too, but I'll take it. "You okay?" he says out loud.

"Yeah." That vocal stuff just reminds me that we're not connected anymore. I cut the cord. We're split. _Permanently._

_No, we're not, dumbass._ I can hear him. _Inside my head. _I stare at Dean and he chuckles silently. _Don't know what the hell you were thinking of. Can't get rid of me that easy. _

"Damn. It's like Dad's a walking neuralizer," Dean says out loud, and John smirks.

Sam frowns. I can't believe he _doesn't_ know what the hell Dean's talking about.

"Dude. Neuralizer? Will Smith? Agent Jay? _Men in Black_?" Sam looks totally lost. "Forget it, Mr. Peabody." Dean finally thinks of something Sam can relate to. "Dad's got juice like Andy Gallagher does, Mr. Peabody."

Sam's face brightens. "Oh. Okay." Then he smirks. "That still makes you Sherman."

"You hungry, Sammy?" Dean says, grinning. "I can rustle up some fried chicken stuffed with maggots for ya if you are."

"You are so full of shit," Sam grins right back.

"I can do that too."

"Think it's time to go, boys," John drawls. He mounts his big red roan colt. Dean mounts his black mare, leaves poor Sam standing there.

"Don't fall off," Sam says to Dean. "I'm not riding side saddle with you."

Dean leers at him. "Why, Samantha, I'm all atwitter at the very thought."

Sam turns and mounts up. His grey gelding is a little fractious tonight. It whinnies and paws the ground. Sam reins him in as he stares at something off in the distance.

"Uh…did you guys do that?" Sam says. The tone of his voice makes me uneasy. _Oh, hell. Now what?_

"There's a cabin over there," Sam nods towards the distance. It's a cabin, all right. Place is dark. Looks like it's been deserted for a while.

"Not me." Dean and I say it at the same time.

"Well boys," John chuckles. "We're roughing it tonight." John and Sam ride ahead. I walk alongside Dean and I don't miss it when he closes off the link. Dean snort-chuckles. Hell, I know what's coming.

_What?_

_So. You finally called Dad Dad, huh?_

_Yeah. So?_

_It's okay to be afraid of him._

My ears go straight up. _'m not afraid of John._

_Dude, I grew up with him and sometimes I'm afraid of him._

_Huh._

_Uh…I was just wondering…you wanna drive for a while?_

_Hell no._

_Oh._

We walk a little further in complete silence.

_I nearly got us killed in there. All of us. You. Me. Dad. Sam. I…I froze up when I saw her. Jenny, I mean. I froze up…_

I shake my head. _Hey, look, you made a mistake. Even with folks like us, it happens, kid. Even with everything we can do, it happens._

_Pequeño. _Dean frowns._ Did you…did you call me little one?_

_What? No! Not me._

_Thought you did. Thought somebody did. I know Dad wouldn't, and Sam better not call me that. You're the only one left._

_Wasn't me. _

_Oh._

_You remember anything else?_

_No. I was pretty much on auto-pilot for the whole thing I guess. After the bitches got me next thing I remember is sitting on the ground up on the hill. _He gives me that puzzled, suspicious look again. _Little one. Huh._

Cabin's nothing but four walls and a roof. No beds, but I conjure up beds and heavy blankets. I even raise the temperature inside so it's more comfortable. John pulls two large flashlights from his saddlebags. I'm so damned tired I can hardly see straight, but I remember enough to keep myself closed off from the kid.

He's too tired to notice.

That future vision. Do I mention it to the kid? Hell no.

Am I worried about it? Duh? What the hell do_ you_ think?

Dean's gotten more comfortable using his juice now. He's still got rules, won't manifest anything alive, only weapons and non-living stuff, and he won't read minds unless he's given permission. He was always damn good at reading people by theie faces and body language. That much hasn't changed. Something happened to us, though, all of us, and it was terrible enough to turn Dean dark.

_They killed Dad. And Sam. _

If anything could do it, that would be _it_.

Not just hunters, not demons. _The world._

_They took Dad and Sam from us. Tried to take you, too. So I take from them. I take it all. _

Thing is, I don't know what to watch out for.

_You're sick. You keep forgetting, Old Man. _

Don't know how John and Sam died, what happened to Dean in the meantime. That slaver collar around his neck? Hell, that's not good. Feel like curling up in a ball and whimpering like a damn pup. I gotta get a grip on myself. Future's not set in stone. I know that for a fact.

Before I doze off in the headspace I listen to everyone breathe. It's a beautiful, rough sound. Music to these big ears of mine. Dean, John and Sam. My family's here, safe and sound, at least for tonight. For right now, that's more than damn good enough.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Some sources reported that Joe Ball shot himself through the heart. Some say he shot himself in the head. Personally, I like the idea of the head shot. I'm twisted that way. The Bexar county sheriff's deputies who came to pick Ball up that morning were John Gray and John Klevenhagen. Yep, they're real people.

_**Next:**_ the boys get a lead on Thomas' whereabouts. Next post is Sunday.


	13. Some People Change

_**A/N:**_ Chapter title taken from _Some People Change_, sung by Montgomery Gentry.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the boys. This is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

_**POV:**_ Dean Winchester

_**Chapter 13 – Some People Change**_

* * *

Had some weird ass dreams last night.

Not my usual, y'know? Never had a problem sleeping before. Well, not all the time. Not gonna lie about it. Sometimes I'd have freaky dreams after a hunt that went south. Happened often enough when I hunted with Dad while Sam was at Stanford, and afterwards, when me and Sam teamed up and hit the road looking for Dad.

Did I ever mention it to 'em? Hell no. Woulda been just one more thing on Dad's mind, like he didn't have enough already, and I sure in the hell wasn't gonna have a pajama party with Sammy and talk bout my damn feelings. The things we hunt would give Anton LeVey nightmares. It's a part of the job. No big deal. When it happened before, far as I know, I never woke up screaming.

Trust me, they would have told me if I had.

Usual, dreams, usual stuff… air around me's so thick that I'm moving in slow motion. Can't pull my gun in time, or the damn thing jams, or I lose my knife or wooden or iron stake right after the fug tosses me into the nearest wall.

Sometimes I'd get ripped apart. And die. Sometimes somebody else would do the dying.

I'd still like to know why some of the bastards we hunted enjoyed tossing me around like a tennis ball. Felt like askin' 'em, but I was so busy ganking their asses. I never did get around to popping the question. Oh well.

I can always tell if the dreams really belong to Coyote, from before the Powers That be split us up, I mean, then put us back in the same body. When it's his dream I can hear that old dog inside my head. I feel different. I'm seeing it all through his eyes, places and stuff I've never seen, people I've never met before. Talk about déjà freakin' vu.

This was different, though.

Only voice I can hear inside my head is mine. 'm yelling, screaming. Can't make out the words. I'm sad and pissed off all at the same time. Can't remember what I'm pissed off about.

It's quick flashes, one scene after another.

I'm stretched out on a table. being handled, touched all over, and I sure as hell don't like that.

Can't move, can't talk out loud. I can hear everything around me, though, quick flashes of words like _Searchlight_ and _acquisition of subject_. Military jargon. The people around me talk all the damn time, like they're making a recording of what's happening. They talk like I'm a piece of equipment or something.

They stick needles in me, take my vitals. I get electrodes attached onto my head, arms and legs.

I'm being moved on a wheeled gurney, down a dark hallway. Lights overhead flash in my eyes.

I'm sitting upright at one point, strapped in to this cold metal chair, naked as the day as the day I was born. All the people around me have on white hospital scrubs, surgical gowns, caps and masks, and there's some kind of machinery moving all around me, on my right shoulder and side. Can't even turn my head to see. Whatever they're doing to me hurts like hell. It burns. I can't scream.

I want to.

One of the whitecaps looks at me, and I can tell the bastard's grinning by the way his eyes crinkle, and that damn mask moves. "Freak won't be able to hide after this, now will he?"

One thing I do remember is how I feel while all this is going on.

I want to kill them. Every last one. Slow and painful.

Weird shit. Crazy. It's almost a relief when I wake up in the morning. I feel fine, though. Not all wrung out like I usually would, back when I thought I was normal.

Sam's got this little grin on his face just about all the time now. He stares down at his hands, his fingertrips, like he's trying to see the change in himself. Welcome to my world, Samantha.

My not so little brother kicked some demon ass, all right. I might not be able to remember everything, but I remember that. I'm beginning to think that yellow-eyed bastard brought out what was only inside Sam all along. Humans use less than a tenth of their brains, right? So what's going on with the other 90 percent that's not being used?

And Dad? Hey, that can of verbal whump ass he opened up on Joe Ball was a stroke of freakin' genius. Always knew Dad had one helluva command voice. Who knew?

I was so wiped out the night before I didn't notice how bare the inside of this place looked before. I close my eyes again and when I open them there's an addition to the shack. The inside's gotten bigger, and by the window there's a wooden table with a massive breakfast spread on it: ham and eggs and bacon and sausage, buttered toast, grape jelly, orange juice and coffee.

I think it's safe to say that none of us are sweating the cholesterol.

And I didn't forget the apple pie, either.

Now I feel better. I'm a bear in the morning unless I have my coffee, anyway.

* * *

We're back tracking now, going back along the way we came. Dad's on one side of me, Sam's on the other. I'm casting around for a sign, of Thomas, or Slymm, or one of those fuckin' witches, and so far I got nothing.

One thing's changed in a major way, and it makes me grin every time I look in his direction.

The Old Man is out ranging around in the brush in front of us. He never did that before.

He called Dad _Dad_. Took him long enough.

Coyote's hiding something. Something went on, he saw something that he's not telling me. We're connected again, and I can tell something's up. I know why he cut the connection between us. Thought he was going to hell, and he was gonna take the First Ilimu with him. He's right about one thing though; if that dumb ass plan of his had worked, I would've followed him down to Hell and kicked his ass back topside.

"So Joe Ball got the drop on you, huh?" Sam calls out. "He was just people, dude." Sam smiles a little to himself as he strokes his grey gelding's neck. There was a time when he stayed as far away from horses as he possibly could.

I give Sam the ol' one fingered salute as I drop the reins. My girl decides to walk along with her head down slightly.

Dad's red roan stops to eat grass. We're not in a hurry, so Dad lets him. "Maybe I need to put you boys through your paces. Maybe an endurance run?" Sam's face lights up.

_Crap._ That was okay when I was taller, but since Sasquatch had that damn growth spurt…

"Or a sparring round," Dad says calmly.

Sam's grin gets a little wider.

"No powers," Dad adds, and Sam's face falls a little. I start smirking then. I'd win that one. Hands down, with or without Coyote. I beat Sammy's ass whenever we spar, always have, even when we were kids. It's a natural law.

The Old Man's sitting on the rocks with his back to us, scratching behind his left ear with his hind paw. I dismount and let my girl crop at the grass. For a moment I get the feeling that the old dog wants to run off when he hears me coming, but he doesn't. He just sits there. I sit down next to him, close my eyes, lift my face up to the sun.

Never did like camping, or roughing it. Sure, I do it when I have to, but I'll take a luxury suite at the MGM Grand in Vegas over a backwoods cabin anytime. This is nice, though. Fresh air, gentle breezes. I can smell creosote from that stand of creosote bushes half a mile away. Little further in than that, there's a group of prickly pears. Fruit's ripe.

A colony of black footed ferrets over the next rise. Noisy little suckers. That prairie dog town nearby isn't too thrilled about having them that close, either. Whole lotta cussing going on over there.

White eared hummingbirds zip all over the place like fighter jets, from one patch of cactus flowers to another. I take a deep breath and listen to the clouds as they move overhead. First time I heard that, months ago, I freaked out. Big time.

"You gonna tell me about it?" I say finally.

"Uh, about what?"

I crack open one eye. "About whatever it was about me you saw that's freakin' you out."

"Uh, no…" Coyote lowers his head, starts gnawing at his left shoulder. That's a tell of his. He's worried. Worried about me. A memory, a fragment leaks out of him, and I catch it, even though he tries to block me.

_We got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs._

Sounded like me. My voice. I open both eyes and frown at him. "What the hell was _that_?"

The Old Man's ears go down. "Nothing."

We sit there like that for a couple of minutes longer. Dad's dismounted, and so has Sam. They're walking around, enjoying the peace. Damn well better, 'cause it never lasts.

It's a quiet moment, about as good as it ever gets for us. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitching about my life. Moments like this, no blood, no screaming, no one dying, are few and far in between.

Shoulda known it wasn't gonna last.

My girl walks over to me and pushes me in the back with her nose. Hard. She wants to go for a run.

"Okay, okay." She snorts, pushes me again. "Damn, you're bossy." She doesn't stop fussing until I take the reins up and mount up. I walk her past Dad, and the feeling hits me right between the eyes like somebody took a hammer to me.

Behind me Coyote makes this short huffing sound. He gets it too.

My nose fills with the smell of fresh, wet blood. I hear screaming, loud and shrill, right on the edge of death.

I jerk back on the reins. I don't mean to, and my girl snorts angrily and half rears, shaking her head from side to side. Dad's staring right at me and I see him reach out for my horse's bridle.

_Skinwalker. Ten miles away._

I'm gone. I 'port, right out of the saddle, just like that.

* * *

It's a family of six. Navajo. Father and the mother with their backs to the wall, shielding their kids, two girls, two boys. Defensive wounds on both parents. Nothing major, just slashes and blood that looks worse than it is. Kids are pressed into the wall behind the parents, shaking and crying. This is one memory I know they could do without, but I can't do anything about that.

It's the dad's brother who's the problem.

Him I can do something about.

He's a big dude, almost as tall as Sam. He's already striped his face with his brother's blood. Bastard was gonna settle in for a day with the folks, ripping them apart slowly, hearing them scream loud and long, before he grinds them into corpse pollen. Hey, why not? They live in an isolated area. Nobody's gonna hear them scream.

Nobody except me and the Old Man.

I get the whole picture as soon as I step _through_ the back wall. Uncle Fugly senses me coming, raises up on his hind legs with that black bear skin draped over him. He rushes towards me with his claws out.

Yeah, right. Not even on your best day, you sonofabitch.

I fill both hands with two Colt 1911s. I place my shots, hit him in the left shoulder, right hip, left kneecap. He's knocked back, spun around halfway. I don't wanna kill him.

Not yet. Not in front of the kids, anyway.

The normals are staring at me all wide-eyed. As far as they know I'm just another fugly, maybe worse than the first one.

For some reason that pisses me off a little.

I get rid of the guns and I'm on him in a heartbeat. Feels good to hit him in the face a few times, just to make the point – _keep your sorry ass down_ – and that's when I hear Coyote inside my head: _He's the only one here, kid. Nobody else._

_Got him. Take care of these folks, will ya? I'm heading back._

I reach down, grab a handful of bear fur and naked brown skin and we're gone.

* * *

I toss the skinwalker into that rock wall in from of me. Dude goes down in a sprawl of arms and legs and fur. He tries to get up, and he can't. I won't let him.

Huh. I tried the tossing thing. Doesn't do a thing for me.

I make a hand gesture at him, and in the next second I've got him up on his feet, spreadeagled against the rocks. It's all about showmanship with these bastards. That's the game they play.

All right. I'll play.

"Tell us where the rest of them are," Dad says from behind. I hear the creak of his saddle leather as he dismounts. He's using his command voice, and the witch laughs as he spits out blood. "That don't work on me, Daddy."

I've had enough of playing with these bastards. "Maybe this will then, huh?"

I close the link off to Sam and Dad. When I slip my right glove off my fingertips are already glowing with his weird blue light. I look down at my hand and the only thing I can think of is my daughter Bertha. She almost lost her mind with grief when they took Thomas. Slymm's out here, lost and alone. And Redd. They killed her. All that pain and misery.

And I wanna give some of that back.

I step right up to the witch, and I push my fingers into his forehead. Don't even know _where_ I picked up this trick. His eyes go wide, and his back arches. What I'm doing to him hurts like hell.

Ask me if I fucking care.

Sick of this. Sick of losing family. Over and over again.

"Dean!" Sam looks spooked, wide-eyed. Can't say I blame him. He's right beside me when I turn to look at him. I can see my reflection in his eyes. My eyes are blazing, golden like the sun. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

Dad gives me this look. "Son, what's going on?"

I can't explain it. Not exactly. "It's like…like going through a file cabinet," I can hear myself say. I'm not gentle about it. Why should I be? I see this bastard's life. Always thought he got the short end of the stick. Nothing he tried ever worked out. So that's an excuse to become a fucking _'ánt'įįhnii_?

I dig my fingers in even deeper and the bastard moans, loud and deep. I'm hurting him. Good.

_Dean._

I see it all. They came to him, one night, the witches did, and this jackass jumped at the chance to become one of them. That damn wolf-witch was there, the one with the blue face paint, the one that took from me before. Killed me, stabbed me in the back, and I had to leave that time. The blade was magic, and it killed me. I didn't wanna cross over, but I did, and by the time I got back my wife Sarah and my daughter Bertha were gone. They lived without me, they---

_Dean? _this voice inside my head says gently. Not Dad, or Sam.

It's the Old Man.

_Niño, that's our memory. That happened to me, way before the split. When I came back I was angry. I went dark. Let me take care of this, Dean. _

Just a little more, just a little…

The witch screams as I dig in deeper. Bloody tears run down his face, and I can't stop, I don't want to stop…

I see this town in his mind, plain as day. Run down, dusty. There's this old woman there.

And Thomas. He's sick with fever. Bedridden.

"Fuck you, Winchester," the witch grates out. He grins at us, all wide and bloody. His eyes are glassy, filled with bright blue light. "Fuck all of you."

"You first." A little more, and I've got the name, and the location.

Keel, New Mexico. Three days ride from where we are.

Three days? We can do better than that.

I pull my hand out, and the witch goes limp. He's still alive, though. I'm about to fix that, when Coyote pushes me aside.

_I got this, kid. I do. _

Then he bails on me in a flash of bright light, and he takes the witch with him.

_Son of a bitch. _

* * *

_**Next chapter will be posted Saturday.**_


	14. stranded

_**Chapter 14 - Stranded **_

_**A/N: **__Diné átchíní - _Navajo family.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, not profit.

_**POV:**_ Coyote

* * *

Don't like to keep secrets. Well, hell, who am I kiddin', right? Don't like to keep secrets from my family. This place is one'a 'em. Come to think of it, never really had a chance to tell Dean about Nowhereland, so I guess that lets me off the hook for now.

Me and the damn witch fade in right next to a clump of Joshua trees. Naturally some of 'em start up with the same old caterwauling.

_Please, Old Man. Take me with you_. The ones all around us lean towards me, shaking and shivering. _This is a mistake. _

They always say that.

_I don't belong here…_

And they never know when to shut the hell up until I tell them to. I pin my ears back as my eyes flash gold. When I growl at them the wind picks up, strong enough to rattle those long pointed leaves of theirs. I don't have time for this crap.

The last tree takes the hint and draws back, branches shivering and shaking.

Couple of rabbits jump out of the tall grass and start racing around. They aren't like any rabbits you've ever seen. They look like something Crow Mother or First Woman would have dreamed up: they're made of green grass and brown vines all woven together. No eyes, just grass.

I growl at them and they take off running, back into the grass. Everybody tries to get in on the act whenever I show up.

The witch starts flailing his arms and legs around. He's on his belly, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. One pupil's way larger than the other. Dean scrambled his brain just like an egg; nervous system's shot all to hell and then some. I could have picked the bastard's brain without much effort. My kid enjoyed hurting him. Even John and Sam sensed something was just a little off.

So you think being a big bad Trickster God is pretty good, huh? You really think we don't have our own troubles?

This life does have its perks. Ain't gonna lie about that. But when it comes to _mi familia_, all the stuff I can do isn't worth squat. I lose people. People I love, all the time. I watched Dean's face as he manhandled that skinwalker. It was like I was watching him slip away right before my eyes, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Dean's usually pretty easy-going. Why he's acting all bloodthirsty all of a sudden? Damned if I know. I'd rather tangle with a pack of demons than try to figure out what makes a human tick.

Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm no Boy Scout. After what they did to Thomas, Redd and Slymm, I have no problem killing all these damn _ánt'įįhnii_. Thing is, I'm afraid for the kid. I don't know what's gonna make him turn dark. One large thing, like John and Sam dying, or a series of small things.

Or everything together.

Didn't see this coming. And I should have. I don't know if I can stop it or not. Somebody, somewhere must be havin' a real good laugh at my expense.

When I find out who it is, I'll tear him -- _or her_ -- a new one.

The witch screams bloody murder as I rip the black bear pelt right off the skinwalker's back. He's brain damaged, he's not numb. I back away with his pelt in my jaws and the sonofabitch starts laughing through the blood and tears. Those witch eyes of his start glowing.

Red light. He's calling his two friends.

Good. Gonna have company in another minute or so.

I know the lore. He's stranded without his skin. That's one down, two to go.

Sometimes these bastards travel in threes. The one at the house was bait. The other two tracked this one, came up when Dean brought him back to John and Sam. When you think about it, that was perfect. Dean's all about family. Kid was so blinded by rage when he saw what happened to that _Diné átchíní _he couldn't sense the other two lurking around. Bastards hid themselves until Dean left.

Knew they'd follow me and their buddy. The real set-up's in Keel, Arizona, where Thomas is. Like I said, I don't have any time to waste.

I back up with the pelt in my jaws, and that's when I hear this voice from behind. "You worried, Old Man? I can smell it on you."

One glance behind me, and there's 'nother one, even bigger than the first one. He's halfway between a black bear and a man, crouched there two legged instead of four. Fur's all streaked with light blue and yellow paint. Got a necklace made of his wife and kid's teeth strung around his thick neck. He starts grinning when he sees I've got his buddy's skin.

Just two. Just two…

I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, something large and black coming right down on top of me. That makes three. Third one's the charm.

I drop the pelt and turn around, but I'm already too late, and I know it. The other one joins in. I'm pinned down on the ground. Feels like half the mountainside came down on me.

Wish I could tell you that I kicked both their sorry asses.

Well, I didn't.

I get my throat ripped out, and I die.

* * *

Masaw's there waiting when I open my eyes on the other side. He's wearing his best robes, like he always does, made of bright blue, silver and gold that make the sky, the sun and moon look dark and dull by comparison.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. Damn. I never can sneak up on him. Not even once. "Maįį, you're playing a dangerous game."

He always says that.

"No, I'm not." I grin at him as I get up and shake the dirt out of my fur. And I always say the same thing whenever he says that.

Masaw rolls his eyes. "You are. One of these days you're going to cross over and you won't want to go back. I'll be stuck with you all the time then."

"You're lonely over here?" I pin my ears back as I look around. I see spirits roaming around everywhere. Some of them are female. They look pretty good from where I'm sitting, but they they won't come near us. "Huh."

He shrugs. "Lonely? No. A lot of them are too afraid of me to strike up a decent conversation."

We sit there and watch as the witches drag my body and that black bear pelt over to where their injured friend is.

"So how's the family?"

"Uh, fine."

"You know, for a Trickster God sometimes you still can't lie worth a damn."

"Am I that obvious?"

"When it comes to them you are, Roamer."

I don't even flinch as one of the skinwalkers kicks me in the head. Masaw does.

That makes me laugh. "Yeah, Mr. Guardian of the Dead. You're the Caretaker of the Third World, and you're squeamish?"

He finally smiles a little. The smile smooths his face out; makes him look years younger. "I'm very sensitive. It's part of my charm."

"Charm don't seem to be working lately." I glance around and see two of the female spirits have decided to come a little closer. The taller one sees me looking at them and she smiles. I grin and wink at them. "Hello, ladies."

They giggle and vanish into thin air.

Masaw sighs. "It's the shy ones you have to watch out for."

The witches gather around their wounded mate on the other side. I'm on a schedule here, and I wonder what's taking so damn long. Dean, John and Sam have probably left to get Thomas already.

I see the first vine come out of the ground around the skinwalkers' feet. It twines around their ankles, and they don't even notice. Yet.

"Well, it's been fun, but I gotta go in a minute." I get up yawning like all this has just bored the hell outta me.

"See what I mean? You come over here, get my hopes up, and then you run off again."

That makes me smirk a little. "'cause that's the kinda dog I am."

It finally dawns on the skinwalkers that they're trapped. They growl and curse, lean down and slash at the vines coming out of the ground. It's up to their ankles now, and nothing they do works. They're screaming. They're scared as hell.

Good.

They still have their skins, but they're not going anywhere. Not in this place.

"Write when you get work," Masaw drawls lazily as I pad forward. "Don't be a stranger."

I step back into my body. Hell, I've come back from worse than this. I get up and shake myself. Blood disappears, skin and fur closes up, and everything's back to normal.

That black bear pelt's still on the ground. They didn't have time to put it back on the injured one. I walk over, pick it up, and the edges of the skin catch fire when I shake it in my jaws. The whole thing falls apart in a cloud of coarse grey ash that gets blown away in the breeze.

I sit down and watch the witches as they turn. Their flesh hardens, turns brown and prickly. They reach up towards the sky, and their eyes widen as their hands change. Their fingers puff out, from five fingers into the spines of a Joshua tree cactus. The largest one turns towards me, and he's screaming, cursing. One last act of defiance as he swings his arms at me, and then even that doesn't matter any more. I lean back slightly as the spines pass within an inch of my nose, and he finally freezes in place.

I'm looking at three of the ugliest damn Joshua trees I've ever seen.

Time for me to go. Gotta catch up with my family. Told Dean before that I'd handle this, and I did. I think I know what's eating at him. He's scared. Scared and tired of losing family and friends. I feel the same damn way. Don't need Dr. Phil or Sammy to help me with that. Wouldn't tell Sasquatch how I feel anyway.

My kid's pissed off at me, but I can live with that. He's stubborn. Hard-headed, just like I am. Thinks he has to do everything all by himself. Gonna have to talk to him about that.

Sometimes killing gets the job done.

And sometimes leaving them alive is even worse.

* * *

Next update next week.


	15. tip of the spear

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, not profit.

_**POV:**_ Dean Winchester

* * *

_**Chapter 15 – tip of the spear**_

I knew I should have gone into Keel by myself. Should have left Dad and Sam right where they were, back there with the horses, safe and sound out in the middle of nowhere, but no, I had to listen to them, listen to that "we're stronger as a family" crap, and off we went.

We fade in on the back end, behind this small hill covered with brush and trees. Next to the word Bumfuck in the dictionary there's gotta be a picture of this place. One main street, right through town, with about thirty buildings clustered around the main drag. Town's not dead yet, but it's getting there. It's far enough away from the highway. There's not much traffic on the streets.

It's not the first time Dad and Sam have ever 'ported with me. It's the first time I did it with their permission. Hell, I felt like hurling the first time I ever did it solo. It's like riding one of those damn tilt-a-whirl rides on a full stomach.

"You could have warned me," Sam's looking a little green around the gills. I can tell Dad's okay just by looking at him. "I forgot how bad that felt."

"Dude, what are you, four? I told you to close your eyes, and you didn't. Dad did. You acted like I was gonna give you a wedgie or a wet willie or something."

Thomas is about two hundred feet away from our position, in that big brown building on the left. I know he is, 'cause I can hear him screaming inside my head.

It's a memory, a lot of damn bad ones. He's caught in a loop. He can't stop himself, has to watch as his hands go around this woman's neck and squeeze her life away. I see one scene after another, see Thomas taking part in_ ánťįįhnii_ rituals somewhere, as the witch who's stolen his body uses it. Thomas is covered in blood, but it's not his. The witches use him to make others bleed and die.

He remembers _everything_, because they _want _him to.

It's hard to think straight with all that going on inside my head. I tried talking to him before, and he can't hear me. I gotta pull away from him. I can't get distracted. Not now.

I put shields up all around us, and Sam and Dad don't notice a thing. I dial down the connection between me and Thomas, until it's just a whisper inside my head. I know where he is. I'll know if they move him, but I feel like twelve kinds of a bastard for doing that. Feels like I gave up on him. Left him.

Just like the Old Man left me.

Damn, that was emo. I don't have time for a friggin' pity party.

"Well?" Dad rumbles.

"I'll go in and get Thomas." At least, that's what I_ meant_ to say.

…_get them…_

My head fills up with white static and strange voices like somebody turned the volume up all the friggin' way UP.

…_hold them here…_

The whole thing goes south, just that damn quick.

…_don't let them get any closer…_

Forty of 'em, all around us. Can't get any details just yet…I just know they're there. My eyes go all the way golden then. I can feel the heat on my skin, see the startled looks on Dad's and Sam's faces.

I can't even hear Thomas anymore.

Can't sort everything out at first. One image on top of another, like some lousy movie with the camera jiggling and jumping all over the place. _Cloverfield_? Oh hell no. This is worse.

My eyes get even brighter then. Fuglies all around, and I can kill them all, tear up the whole damn hillside if I want to, leave Sam and Dad and Thomas untouched. I gather up everything inside of me that I have…

They're _human_.

I smell gunpowder all around us, fear and dust and leather and _human_.

Forty of them, all armed with shotguns and rifles.

I put the brakes on then.

Dad taught me and Sam _never _to kill humans. _Never._

_Son of a bitch._

I don't give Dad or Sam a chance to even react. Fingers tighten up on triggers all around us, and it doesn't matter that I've got shields up all around us. I want my family far away from this mess, quick fast and in a damn hurry.

We 'port out in a flash.

After I drop Sam and Dad off, I'm coming _back_.

* * *

We 'port in right next to the horses. Sam and Dad are on their knees dry-retching. My big black mare stops grazing, raises her head and stares at us like she's thinking to herself _Now what?_

"Dean ---" Sam's sputtering, choking. He looks nauseated and bitchface all at the same time. _Huh._ My baby bro' has many skills. "What---what the hell was _that_?!"

"It was a trap." Yeah, that's lame, but other than that I got nothing.

Dad raises up on his knees, wipes his mouth with his hand. He blinks, once, and settles himself. I know that look. He's already thinking ahead, mapping out our next move.

Sorry. _My _next move. After this I'm not letting Dad or Sam get anywhere near Keel. I reach out and lay on hands on both of them, take the nausea away. Doesn't get rid of Sam's bitchface, though. Dad just looks thoughtful.

"Maybe…maybe you should just stay here and let me handle this," I say slowly. I can feel Sam clench up all the way. "I'll bring Thomas out by myself."

"You don't have to do this by yourself, kiddo," Dad rumbles. "You don't."

"It'll be cake." I try to play it off, keep things light.

Sam takes a deep breath, and there it is, the full bitchface. "You okay?"

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "What? Yeah. Why shouldn't I be?"

Sam shrugs. "I dunno, Dean. You looked kinda scary back there."

"What?"

"Don't know if I'd trust you by yourself, dude. I saw the way you looked, and before, with that skinwalker. The only other time I've seen you out of control like that was at the mill. When you took that vamp's head off."

"What?" I know good and damn well what Sam's referring to.

"Gordon Walker," Sam says simply.

"I don't --"

"Don't play with me, Dean. You know good and well what I'm talking about."

I hate this crap. Dad just sits there, quiet. Damn. _Shut up, Sam. Shut the hell up…_"You got something to say to me, bro'?"

"Yeah, I do. What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? Nothing."

"Drop the act, okay Dean? I saw the look on your face when you had your…your hand inside that witch's head."

"Oh, you did, huh?"

"Yeah. You looked like you enjoyed it. Just like you did at the mill."

"Bastard wasn't gonna volunteer anything, Sammy. I did what I had to do to get the job done."

"Sammy's a chubby four year old," Sam snaps, and then he laughs. "You're getting the job done, huh? Is _that_ what you're calling this now?"

"What?"

"This is the way you always act when you're scared. You got that macho act down, but I'm not fooled. Coyote knew you were near the edge, or over it. That's why he bailed on you, took the witch with him."

Dad's not bothered by what I did back there. I can't read him sometimes, but I know if he was in my place he would have done the same thing. I can't make the same moves I'd make if I had to worry about Sam and Dad. Dad gets it, I know he does.

I get up, dust my hands off on my jeans. "I don't know why the Old Man ran like that. All I know is that Thomas is here, and we're gonna get him back. Take him back to Bertha, back home where he belongs."

"And you don't have to feel guilty about that, Dean." Dad says quietly. He stands up, looks me right in the eye.

"I'm not ---"

"Yeah. You are," Dad says softly.

I don't say anything. I can't. I just stand there.

"Dad, they got him," I hear myself whisper. "They made him do terrible things. Because of me."

"I know, son. I know."

_Damn._ Dad went to Hell for me. Thomas went through hell because of me. Sam had a chance to live the normal life he always wanted. That chance and Jess went up in flames, thanks to that yellow-eyed bastard.

I'm sick of it. Sick of the whole friggin' way life gets turned inside out around me. Everyone around me either leaves or gets a royal number gone on 'em. I'm a freak. I've known that all my life, even _before _I knew about Coyote. I play the hand I'm dealt with, not gonna bitch and moan about it, but sometimes it seems like there's a target on the backs of everyone I've ever loved.

"You're not doing this by yourself, Dean. Family, remember? We'll think of something. Together."

All I can do just nod. Sam starts smirking, and right then and there I make a mental note to start a prank war with him as soon as this is all over. He busted me about Gordon Walker in front of Dad. Looks like Sam needs some more Nair in his shampoo, or maybe a little Preparation H in his toothpaste, 'cause that's the kinda big brother I am.

"All right, then," Dad says briskly. "There was supposed to be just Thomas and this old woman in town, right?"

"Right." I scowl as I realize something. "I didn't pick up any witches. Just humans."

"If they're just humans, then, how did they know we were coming? They knew exactly where we turned up." Sam's bitchface is gone. He's in full-on research mode now.

"Either…either it's the witches, or we got a new player in town. Somebody who can shield themselves from me," I say out loud.

I look at Dad, and then Sam. "We are so screwed," Sam whispers softly, and there's not a hell of a lot I can say to_ that_.

* * *

We got work to do.

Fifteen minutes later, and we got a plan. I go in, get everyone focused on me. When we were kids, Dad taught us that sometimes you have to take the tip of the spear to get close enough to kick the other fella's ass.

What? Didn't say it was a _good_ plan, now did I? Crazy's the only game in town right now, and we gotta roll with it.

I hit the street right in front of the building Thomas is in. I don't come in sneaky. I come in loud, make as much noise as I can. I fill the air around me with flame and thunder. I draw their attention to_ me_.

Not to Sam and Dad.

They're on the other side of the building, right by the back door.

It's clear. Sam pops the lock with his mind. Dad has Sam's six.

The welcoming committee is all around me, on the rooftops, across the street. I can smell gunpowder, regular rounds, no silver, not even rock salt. .38 caliber weapons, semi-automatic pistols and shotguns. I see a couple of Remington 700 rifles with scopes. A bearded dude wearing denim is sitting on the porch in a wooden chair, and as soon as he sees me he stands up and aims a AK-47 at me.

The NRA would fall in freakin' love with this crowd.

_Showtime._

I've got fire in my eyes. I raise wind and lightning in the air all around me.

Somebody up on the roof in front of me fires off one round. Lead ammo. I raise my hand. Doesn't even touch me, just bounces off the palm of my hand and buries itself into the wooden floorboards.

"That's enough," this voice says, low and husky.

Everybody freezes.

One minute the porch in front of me is empty, except for Cletus and his weapon, the next minute this old woman is standing there. She's tall, dressed in blue jeans, boots, and a workshirt. Her long silver hair's pulled back from her face in a ponytail. Her eyes are this clear, deep blue with green and gold lights swimming around in the depths. The air around her vibrates and I don't need to take another look to know she's _Other_.

I nod at her, pump the light show up around me another notch. "Nice trick."

She looks at me and smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. "Dean Michael Winchester."

"So you know my name. So _what_?"

Dad and Sam are inside the building, going up the stairwell. Thomas is on the second floor. Front bedroom. Nobody else around but Thomas, and Sam and Dad.

"I was there when we separated you from the Old Man. I was there when we formed you out of clay and wind and fire."

"Okay. _So_?"

She sighs. "You're Coyote's pup, all right. You're just as rude as he is."

'Gee, thanks," I grin at her all wide and bright. "You said _we_. We _who_?"

"The Powers That Be," she says grandly.

"Big deal. Am I supposed to fall down and worship at your feet, sweetheart?"

Apparently Cletus the Bearded Wonder doesn't like my tone of voice. "You're an abomination, boy. You come in here flashing those golden eyes of yours, using that devil voice, and you think we're all gonna just lay down and let you walk all over us?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." I quirk an eyebrow at silver hair. "Pot callin' the kettle black, don't ya think?" The firestorm around me flares up a little more. "My fight's not with you. Or your people. Fact is, you got one of my family in there, and I want him back."

Another Mona Lisa smile from the woman. "Thomas."

"Yep. Step aside. Let me take him home to his wife."

"I will return what is rightfully yours," silver hair says, and as soon as she says it I get the mother of all bad feelings. The air five feet away from me shimmers like a heat flare, and Dad and Sam are standing there, right out in the open.

Sam looks startled.

Dad's eyes narrow. "Son of a bitch!"

Silver hair's little smile gets even wider.

_Shit._

I drop the lightshow, throw up shields all around us.

"There now," the woman purrs. "As for Thomas, we shall have to, as you say, negotiate."

"Negotiate my ass." I've had it with this crap. I look up, and everybody up on the rooftops draws back. Not a good sign.

The wind picks up all around us, whipping and slashing at the shields I've got up. Brown dust fills the air all around us, and when it clears the silver haired broad is in the street, standing about three feet away.

The air around her is moving, churning. The space around me and Dad and Sam is clear, calm. Silver hair nods. "You do have some talent on your own, boy. It's a shame. What a waste."

She looks at Dad and her face softens, just a little. "I don't blame you, John Winchester. You were a decent enough father. You loved your wife. Not your fault that your sons turned out so wrong. The youngest, tainted by that filth, Azazel."

Sam glares at her.

"And your eldest, well…" she looks at me and laughs. "He was corrupted from the start."

"Corrupt _this_, bitch," Coyote says roughly. He's right beside me, all furry and four-legged, and I must be slipping because I didn't even notice when he showed up.

She looks at him and shakes her head. I get the link up and running four-way. Dad and Sam are okay. One moment they were easing down the hallway, the next they were back outside. Dad's cussing like a longshoreman. Even Sam was cussing up a blue streak when we linked up.

_About time you showed up, Old Man_. I try not to smile, even though he's looking at me with his ears straight up and that smirk on his face. He ditched me, remember? Ran off with that damn witch. _Who the hell is this?_

_Gaia. _Coyote sounds like he doesn't want to tell me.

_Who?_

_Gaia. _I hear Sam now. _The Goddess of the Earth. She's Greek. Birthed just about everybody in Greek mythology._

_I know that!_

_Dean, what the hell is she doing here? _

_I should have told you, _Coyote says. _I should have said something before._

I can hear this voice inside my head, and I must be losing my friggin' mind, because it's_ me. _

_We got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs. _

I smell blood and death and fear, see the skies darken with fires from cities and towns as they burn to the ground. I smell ash, and charred flesh.

"As I said, we have to talk about this," Gaia says smoothly. She stops directly in front of me. We lock eyes, and her smile is cold. "Dean Michael Winchester." I bristle at the sound of my name coming out of her mouth. My right hand curls up into a fist, and when she sees that her smile gets a little wider.

"In the very near future you will be the cause of this planet, _my_ planet, dying. You will be the end of all there is, and that is something I cannot allow."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I realize I might have gotten a little Neil Gaiman (and also Dark Phoenix) with this. Everything will be explained in the next chapter, I promise.

TBC Sunday.


	16. true lies

_**A/N the 1st:**_ First off, this old boy has 106 reviews. I wanna thank you all for that!

_**A/N the 2**__**nd**__**:**_ I wrote _You have Mail (Witless in Seattle) _in which the Australian trickster Bamapana emails Coyote. Now, Bamapama was brought to life in PADavis' excellent fic, _The Quiet Man_. I thought he and Coyote had to be old buds, so I hijacked ol'Bam. I was honored when Phoebe wrote _What's New, Pussycat_, in which Coyote visits Dionysus's Bar and meets a "friend" from Dean's past. If you're familiar with the Coyote 'verse, you know what to expect, and she captured Dean and Coyote's voices perfectly. I am so unnecessary! Even if you're not familiar, it's a damn good read; check it out!

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Supernatural. Eric Kripke does. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

_**POV:**_ Coyote

* * *

_**Chapter 16 – true lies**_

I put on my most innocent face and I lie like a rug. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You're not the only one who has visions, Coyote." She was one ice cold bitch the first time I met her, and Gaia hasn't changed one bit. "Your pup will be responsible for the End Time."

Dean laughs. "Gee, is that a fact, sweetheart? I'm all atwitter."

He smirks at Gaia, wicked sharp, makes it plain that no matter what leverage she might think she has over him, even if it_ is_ Thomas, he's _nobody's_ bitch, not even _hers_.

_Niño,_ I've never been more proud of you than I am right now.

The thing is, he _knows_.

_We got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs. _

Dean saw himself, how he might _be_, how he _could _be.

That smug smile on Gaia's face sets my teeth on edge, but I gotta act like none of this means anything, even though I can hear Thomas inside my head. He's reliving everything he did, he's screaming as he puts his hands around another child's throat, as he peels the flesh off another man's face with a hunting knife. He wants to forget. He wants to, but Gaia won't let him. It's an old damn trick, just about as old as I am: making the bait scream to draw the prey near.

And in this case, the prey is _us_.

John steps up next to Dean. Sam's on my left side. We're surrounded on all sides, but I'm here with my pack, my family. And that's more than enough.

"So I pissed off Mother Nature, huh?" Dean mutters. "That's gonna look real good on my resume."

"Uh, Dean?" Sam says cautiously. "She's not Mother Nature. She's Mother Earth."

"Whatever, Sammy."

"Old Man, I wasn't interested in your whelp as long as you were contained, as long as he didn't know what he was, what he could do." Gaia walks around the bubble we're in, looks everyone up and down. She stares at Sam and he stares back defiantly. _Azazel's tainted child, huh? Like hell._

"I would have been content to watch as his brother and father died in whatever way was ordained ---"

"Watch your mouth, bitch." Dean snaps.

"You see?" Gaia smiles thinly. "Charming as always."

I sit down, yawn, and scratch at the back of my right ear with my left hindleg.

Gaia sniffs. "Unruly and disrespectful, the both of you."

Hey, one'a my nicknames is First Scolder. Rude and disrespectful? Yep. I own that one.

"Even after you came out, Old Man, none of this would have been a problem. You were supposed to merge, the both of you, two into one, but you didn't. If you had you would have absorbed this…human." She stares at Dean like she's smelling a gas leak, and he gives her the same look right back. "You always were stubborn, never would follow the plan. Well, now," she steps back, and there's that fake smile again. "You won't be able to wiggle your way out of this one. I've called a select panel of my peers to judge your human half, and deal with him accordingly."

The sky over Keel turns dark and light as the bastards in the sky and on the rooftops all around us show themselves. I look up and flatten my ears back as shapes form in the clouds, flashes of pale silver, bright green, earth brown, and midnight black.

John lets out a whistle, long and low. "Well I'll be damned."

"I wish Bobby could see this." Sam sounds wistful.

"Now that's something you don't see everyday," Dean drawls lazily.

Gaia looks startled when none of us fall down on our knees or pee in our pants or something. Just goes to prove that they don't know us that well. John spent a year down in hell, and even before I came out Dean and Sam have seen stuff that normal humans never see, not to mention all that crap that went on in that town up in Illinois, right after I did come out.

We don't do the cowering in fear thing.

_Okay,_ Dean says through the link. _What are we looking at here?_

_Ummm…lessee…big green feathered serpent… Quetzalcoatl. Feathered Serpent. Huh. He's usually shy, likes to go on his own way. Makes me wonder what he's doing with this bunch of losers. _

_The old dude with the beard and the horns?_

_Cernunnos. Celtic. Lord of the Animals._

_Thought he was Lord of the Underworld,_ Sam says, and the kid's so solemn about it I have to bark out a laugh. _Nope. Masaw's got that covered. Way I hear it, ol' Cernunnos got tired of dealing with the deceased. Some of 'em can be real pains in the asses. When Elvis showed up, he wanted to ---_

_As much as I appreciate the trivia, Old Man, _John's thought voice is calm and dry, _I think we better concentrate on what's around us. _

_Good point. _I run down the list of the ones in the sky above us. There's _Anthis_, a so-called Monkey King, a poor man's King Kong, a flight of Harpies swooping around _Auchimalgen's _large moon-shaped head. I love the moon just as much as any dog out here, maybe more, but moon goddess or no, she's just not my type.

I know some of the others. That dark, man-shaped cloudbank? Mai-Taing. Vietnamese weather god. I see two giant baboons up there, their faces striped with purple and gold, as the humans on the rooftops turn into giant snakes, scorpions, and cheetahs. Hell, that's not good.

_Ogdoad__._

_What? _

_Husband and wife pair. They're old magic. __Kuk__ and __Kauket__._

_So why do we have to worry about a couple of apes? _I can hear the scowl in Dean's voice.

_Ancient Egypt. They're rulers of darkness. Nasty bastards. Supposed to be the First, even before me. __I don't see any of the heavy hitters. Skan's not here. Neither is Crow Mother. Or Artemis, or Spider._

Sam quirks an eyebrow at me._ Which means?_

_Might mean she couldn't get support among the others, so she recruited whoever she could. _

The man with the beard standing beside Gaia, there's something about him. Something familiar, and all of a sudden I know what it is. He's hidden himself well, but that old bird never was as tricky as he thinks he is.

"_Chulyen_, come on out, you miserable bastard," I bark at him, and that makes him smile.

"Never could put one past you, you old dog." The beard melts away, reveals smooth black skin, long midnight black hair layered with long, shiny black feathers, and piercing gold eyes. He's tall, about two feet taller than everyone else here, even Sam. Huh. As always, bastard's overcompensating for his shortcomings. I know. He's got a lot of 'em.

"You have Raven to thank for this," Gaia shrugs as Raven shifts his coal black feathered robes around that bean pole body of his. "He liberated that poor soul from those witches. He did what you and yours couldn't."

"Figures." I roll my eyes. "And you went running to her with this half-assed plan of yours, is that it? You oughta get a life, Raven. I mean it. Take a cruise, get a massage, hook up with those water nymphs down by the Rio Grande. I hear the twins are still hot for you --- "

I stand up and shake myself from head to toe. "Well, this has been really boring, so I guess we'll be on our way now."

"You can't leave now, Old Man. We still have your daughter's husband." Raven's grin is sharp as razors, but so is mine when I bare my teeth at him in a grin.

"Now that we know you're involved, I kinda doubt it's really Thomas in there now, anyway," and I'm able to lie with a straight face.

"Well, don't be like that. You've come this far," Gaia purrs. "You can spare five minutes to see him, can't you?"

Her smile returns, gets a little wider when Dean just nods.

* * *

We take the stairs into the building, just like normal folks. It's okay. Gives us time to talk among ourselves, and no one else can hear.

Sam's going over everything he saw and heard. Any other time watching this kid analyze stuff would be highly entertaining. Not now.

I'm getting that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one I always get when I've screwed things up big time.

_And Gaia hates you why?_

I don't answer at first. I'm walking up the stairs next to Dean, looking up at him, and I don't like that blank look on his face.

_Coyote?_

_Huh? Oh. She created the earth. I created humankind._

_Thought Raven had a hand in that._

I roll my eyes. _Everybody wants in on the creation myth, kid. Don't believe the hype._

_Okay. So you created mankind. Any idea why that would piss her off?_

I shrug. _Plenty. She didn't want hairless apes in her garden. Still doesn't._

_So if she thinks Dean destroyed not only the human race, but the planet itself, that would be more than enough to piss her off._

_Yatzhee, _Dean murmurs to himself.

* * *

Seeing Thomas doesn't make things any better. He looks like he's been through hell.

He's curled up on that bed in the front bedroom with his eyes closed, and when the door opens and he hears us walk into the room he startles, hunches into himself and hugs his pillow, tight and desperate. Those deep brown eyes of his are the worst. They're bloodshot, clouded but aware.

I pick up on some of what he's hearing and seeing. Everything's too bright, too loud. Bootsteps and spurs sound like thunder. The sounds wash over him, hurts his skin, and he doesn't recognize us at first, not even me. We're dressed for the road, for the hunt, dusters and denim. Suntanned, longer hair, sunbleached, heavier stubble.

He has on clothes they borrowed from somewhere, brown denim pants and white t shirt, not the blue jeans and blue workshirt he had on the last time we saw him, before everything went to hell. Witches like to work naked, wearing only paint and fur and the body fluids of the folks they're carving on. Thomas'clothes were probably ditched a long time ago.

He's like a scarecrow now, not sturdy and solid like he was back at Bertha's place. His long black hair is streaked with white and silver, and there's blood and bile caked underneath his fingernails.

None of it is his.

Dean's in the lead, and the kid stops and just stands there for a moment, staring down at Thomas. My stomach does a slow, greasy flip-flop.

Sam says softly though the link, _Dean, is it him?_

Dean nods. He stands there frozen for a moment. _He's like this because of me._

_No, he's not_, I snarl at him, and I'm rougher than I mean to be. They could have cleaned him up better than this, could have healed him, and they didn't. My only living daughter's husband, reduced to skin and bones, reduced to this.

And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. This is my screw up, not Dean's, but I know he claims it just the same.

I move closer to the bed and pin my ears back as the full force of all the screams and the fear and blood and panic in the air all around Thomas hits me. Thomas hunches into himself even further, and his back slams up against the wall behind the bed.

Sam and John stand in the doorway as Dean and I move to the bed.

Dean kneels down, and the fingers of his right hand twitch. He wants to touch Thomas, on the arm, or the shoulder, but by the way Thomas is reacting that would scare the crap out of him even more. Dean reaches out with a light mind-touch instead.

_Thomas? Hey._

Nothing at first. Thomas' face stretches out a little, like he's going to start screaming. Then: _That…that you, Winchester?_

_Yeah, it's me._

_Old Man with you?_

_I'm here._ I lay my head on the bed, near Thomas' head. He unhooks one hand from around the pillow, and he reaches out blindly. I blink, flatten my ears a little more as his fingers brush against the fur on top of my head.

"Bertha all right?" Thomas croaks out loud. He opens his eyes, "She's fine," Dean rumbles. "Bear's with her." Thomas reaches for Dean, and the kid grabs his hand and holds it, firm but gentle.

"Couldn't stop them…you know that right? I couldn't stop them…didn't want to leave…"

"We know."

"The…the things I did…the people I hurt…" Thomas' grip tightens, and anybody else would be doubled over in pain by now, but Dean doesn't even seem to notice.

"Wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault." Dean's shoulders sag, and my stomach cramps up even more.

I crouch there staring at Thomas. I feel like a low-down dirty dog for thinking it. I'm trying to decide if he's even worth all this.

I can't lose Dean. I won't.

My mouth outruns my mind sometimes._ We could ride away._

_What?_

_You heard me. We could ride away. Go to Antelope Canyon, see if Slymm's there like we think. I can figure out how to get Thomas away from them later_.

Dean shakes his head, slow and deliberate. _I can't…I can't do that._

_Niño, he's safe here. They won't do anything to him. It's not like he's still with those damn yeenaaldlooshii…_

_I can't leave him here like this…_

_Dean, _John says slowly._ We need a plan, son. You know that. This isn't your fault. None of this is._

Dean laughs out loud, bright and bitter, and the sound of that laugh scares the hell out of me. "Not my fault, huh? Then whose fault is it, Dad?"

Right then and there I know we're not leaving, and don't think that bitch doesn't know it, either. Dean won't abandon Thomas, and Gaia and that scrawny flying rat Raven know that.

We're screwed.

* * *

Next post this week.


	17. the best laid plans of coyotes

**POV:**Coyote

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

* * *

_**Chapter 17 - the best laid plans of coyotes**_

_The hell with this._

I flatten my ears back, snarl, and push up against Dean sideways. Hard. Dean's eyes widen as I snap my jaws shut barely an inch away from his hand.

_Move._

_What? Get the hell off me_. Kid won't let go of Thomas' hand.

I don't look at Thomas anymore. Can't. Won't be able to go through with this if I do. I've made up my mind, and he's not worth me losing Dean. Nothing is.

I glance over at John and Sam, send them away from here in the blink of an eye.

Dean knows what I just did. Kid's usually razor sharp, lightning quick with his reaction time, but all this crap about finding Thomas like this and the news about John and Sam dying is messin' with his head. All the more reason for me to do this.

They can hate me for this. All of them can. I don't care.

_I said MOVE, boy._ I sink my teeth into Dean's right hand, tear the back of his hand open.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean glares at me as he lets go of Thomas. Wish I could say I wouldn't have bitten_ him_ too, but I'd be lying if I said that. Dean's off balance and I slam into him sideways as he tries to stand up. We both push through the pathway I opened up.

Dean stumble-steps backwards and the room fades out around us. The worn hardwood floor beneath our feet turns into coarse sandy ground.

We're out in the open now, miles away from Keel. I give John and Sam a not so gentle push in the opposite direction, away from me and the kid. I gotta get them out of the way, 'cause I know what's coming next.

Dean heals himself up damn fast. He turns towards me, eyes blazing. "You flea-bitten fuck!" The air around him turns dark gold, the ground ripples all around his feet as he lashes out at me. Dirt and grass fill the air all around us. I brace myself as the shock wave hits me, pushes me backwards a little.

When the dust settles Dean's just standing there, with his fists balled up, the wind whipping the edges of his duster all around him, and the look on his face is equal parts rage and hurt. When he opens his mouth and speaks it's a whisper. Softest sound I ever heard. And the loudest.

"You _knew_. Damn you, you knew."

_We got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs._

"You saw what I did, and you didn't tell me."

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but he shuts it just as quick when John shakes his head at him. Should have known I couldn't pull the wool over John's eyes for long. From the way he's looking around at the terrain, the grove of twisted cactus nearby and the mountains, he gets it. Sam looks around, and he does too. Dean's too wired to notice anything, and right now all he wants to do is kick my furry ass. Right then and there I get that damn tingly feeling I always get in the pit of my stomach whenever things get fucked up like this.

I back up a little, start pacing back and forth all stiff-legged. I wanna kill something right now. Anything, just to take the edge off. Hey, I'm not the poster dog for normal. Never have been, remember? Don't like the way my kid is looking at me, can't stand the way John and Sam are eyeballing me. My family's pissed at me, and bad as this is, it's gonna get worse.

"It's not written in stone. It's only what could happen, and that bitch knows it." I'm snarling as I walk back and forth, way too rough, and I can't help it. I feel like crawling over on my belly to them, but I'm pissed off too. "You gonna give yourself up like that, niño? Just like_ that_, without a fight? They knew you would, soon as you laid eyes on Thomas. They know your weak spots. Mine too. It's family."

"So we're just gonna leave Thomas with them, huh? Just like that?" Dean snaps. "He's Bertha's husband. He's _our_ daughter's husband. He's family."

"Gaia's using him to draw you in. She hates me. You're all the excuse she needs."

"You don't get it, do you? We're the reason -- _I'm _the reason Thomas is out here in the first fucking place! I'm not leaving him back there."

The grass nearby rustles and a rabbit hops out, only this one is made of leaves, vines and long grass, not fur and flesh and bone. I grab the damn thing by the neck and shake it until it falls apart. That'll teach it to be so damn nosy. It doesn't die, though. Not in_ this_ place. It gathers itself into a ball and rolls back into the tall grass.

Sam and John don't miss a damned thing.

Dean's eyes narrow. His pupils go golden right then. "What the hell is this place?"

"Nowhereland." I shrug like it's no big deal, when it is. "Normal rules don't apply here." Should have told them about this place before, but I didn't. Just one more thing I screwed up.

Seems to be the day for it.

"No shit," John rumbles. "What the hell is going on here, Old Man?"

I duck my head. When I glance up John is staring at me so hard I wanna tuck my tail between my legs and run off.

Sam goes a different way. Always has. He goes soft at first. "Dean? What's this all about?"

I see that look _(hurtmadsad_) flicker across Dean's face. He keeps his back to Sam for a moment longer, but he doesn't want me to see either. I stare at the ground and twitch my ears when I hear another rabbit in the long grass. If another one of those sumbitches gets any closer I'm going postal on all of 'em.

"Dean?" Sam's bitchface is out now, equal parts_ madworried. _I've never seen anyone else do it like Sam, especially when it comes to Dean. Most folks go overboard in either direction. It's scary to watch this kid in action.

Dean masks up as he turns to face his brother. _Nothing to see here, I can take care this myself, thanks._ I know the look. Hell, I oughta know it. It's my face too. Dean bares his teeth at me, and I can't help it, I bare mine right back.

"It's nothing, Sam. Nothing." Dean does a handflap and Sam kicks the bitchface up a notch.

"Nothing?" Sam sounds amazed. "Gaia's pissed off at you, bro'. Gaia. Mother Earth, remember? Because apparently you kill the damn earth after Dad and I die. I'd say that's a hell of a lot more than nothing, Dean. We gotta talk about this."

Dean laughs, and it's sharp and bitter and mocking. "Hell we do. Nothing to talk about. I'll handle this." He turns back around and gives me this hard look. "I'm not leaving Thomas with those bastards."

I open my mouth to say something smart ass and right then and there I forget what the hell I was gonna say. My ears prick up. Dean, John and Sam are looking at something over my head and behind me.

They're staring at the mountain range behind me.

_Shit. _

_Shit!_

It's like a friggin' IMAX screen up there, thousands of feet tall. The rocks change and shift.

Damn. Fuckin' hell! Forgot about how sensitive everything here is. This isn't coming from me.

It's coming from Dean.

His shoulders sag as he stands there staring at the ground. He's not watching anymore. He doesn't have to.

There's the Grand Canyon, the sky overhead pitch dark, boiling over with clouds. There's me lying in the grass about twenty feet away from the edge of a cliff.

Ten wooden crosses with headless bodies tied to the crosses, set in the ground near the edge of the cliff.

And Dean.

John and Sam watch as Dean raises those human skulls in his hands, they watch as he calls down lightning that scours the earth. They see the way he's dressed, with the loincloth, the long hair and tattoos, the slave collar around his neck.

They see Dean smile as cities, towns and countries die.

They took Dad and Sam from us," Dean says calmly as he strokes my fur. "Tried to take you, too." He closes his eyes, tilts his head back a little as he scents the death rising in the air. "So I take from them." He smiles a little. "I take it all."

I can't shut these mouthy bastards up fast enough. I turn around and snarl at the mountain behind us.

_**SHUT THE HELL UP,YOU DUMB SONSABITCHES! AND I MEAN NOW!**_

The rocks stop moving all at once, turn brown and red and dusty.

Sam looks stunned, like somebody just popped him upside the head. "You…you saw this?" And I know he's talking to me. "You saw this, and you didn't say anything?"

John glares at me, and I feel like running off. "Not gonna ask you again. What the hell is this place?"

"Told you before," I mumble. "It's Nowhereland. My place. I keep…stuff here."

"Stuff?" John scowls. Doesn't like the sound of that. "What kind of stuff?"

I wanna tell him. Nowhereland's just one more reason Gaia hates my guts. It's the safest place on earth from her, the only safe place on earth. I wanna tell him, but I don't have time. Gotta go clean up this mess I made.

John stares at me as I raise up on my hind legs. The look on his face doesn't change, but there's a dark flicker in his eyes as I shift, become a mirror image of Dean, brown leather duster, sun bleached hair and all.

Dean's face is blank. He doesn't move, not even as Sam walks up beside him. Kid's worried about his big brother, and not worried for himself. I might be a clueless jackass, but I get it. Sam knows better than to put his hand on Dean's arm, or his shoulder. Just standing there beside him is enough.

I back up, and as I do the ground and air around them changes. In the blink of an eye John, Sam and Dean are standing on the porch of a large wooden lodge building with blonde wooden walls and a slanted wooden roof. Nice places, one'a my better creations. It's nice inside. Three bedrooms, three baths, full kitchen, well stocked. Looks like any ritzy dude ranch you might find around the country. I've wandered through a few in my time.

Where? Don't be so damn nosy.

"Coyote?" Dean says warningly. "Old Man?" Shoulda known he wasn't gonna stay quiet without giving me what for. His eyes flash golden and just like I figured he would Dean jumps the porch railing.

At least he tries to.

He hits that invisible barrier I put up around the house and gets knocked back onto the porch, flat on his ass. Sam and John are right by his side. Dean sits up and the look he gives me is pure murder.

I gotta admit, this is funny as hell. What? You know I got a twisted sense of humor. I grin a little as I turn to go. "You'll be all right. It's safe here. Stay inside."

Dean gets up, and man, he's pissed. I can feel it through the shield. He hits the barrier with his fist. The air twangs, goes all shimmery for a minute. Nothing.

I open up a pathway ten feet away and Dean paces me along the porch as I walk towards it. "Damn it, you can't do this! You hear me ---"

"Why don't you go inside, have some pie, watch television and calm down," I tell him. I'm talking to him like he's four, and I know he hates that. "I put the horses somewhere safe. I'll come back when I'm done."

"You mangy sonofabitch, come back here ---"

I step into the pathway and fade out with Dean's curses ringing in my ears. And they say Sam's the one who has a way with words. Dean calls me everything but a child of God and then some. I know I'm gonna catch hell when I come back.

_If_ I come back.

Not the first time I've been cussed out by a family member.

And it probably _won't_ be the last.

* * *

The streets of Keel, New Mexico are filled with crowds of kachinas, animal spirits, and other posers when I step through. I'm the most normal looking one around. Everybody else has flippers, wings, scales, you name it. Don't know what the hell this is all about. There's more of these clowns around than there were last time.

I even see a couple of unicorns. They're not riding on silver moonbeams and I don't see any rainbows shooting out of their asses. I try not to bust out laughing at the sight of them. Before I came out from behind the wall Dean swore they didn't exist.

This one snake thing stops when it sees me, opens its mouth and hisses like it's won the food lottery and it's time to collect. Break out the plates and the barbeque sauce, I'm on the menu.

It's a big bastard, about three feet thick and twenty feet long. I just stand there staring at it when this other minor Mayan serpent god, _R'u-kej athzee_, nudges Slinky and shakes its head _no. _

_bbbbad ideaaaa, _the second one hisses._ thatsssss Coyote's blond pup. Tricky mmmeat. _

Slinky drools, gives me one last look, thinks better of it, turns and slithers off behind the general store.

_Shoot. _I was thinking maybe Dean or John would like a pair of snakeskin boots. Bobby too.

Who the hell am I kidding? Take more than that to get back on their good side. Sam's the emo one. I think he'd understand.

But then again, maybe not.

I don't see Raven's sorry ass around, but I do see Gaia. She's sitting on the front porch of the hotel. She's not that surprised to see me.

I mean, to see _Dean_.

She gets up from the rocker on the front porch of the hotel, leans against the railing with that ice queen smile plastered on her mug. "Dean Winchester. I didn't think you would come back."

I shrug like it's no big deal. "I came back for Thomas."

"So you did." She stares at me hard for a moment, like she's trying to see beneath my skin.

"I'd heard about you, child. Heard about your devotion to your family."

"Yeah?" I smirk. "You gonna deal or you gonna perv on me all day?"

Gaia frowns. "I'd heard about that smart mouth of yours, too."

"It's called snark."

"Whatever." She looks like she's not gonna like this next part. Might be good news for me. "Some of my, ah, peers are unconvinced of the threat you pose."

"No shit."

"They have considered all the good works you and your family have done. My colleagues want to test you."

"Test me?"

"Yes." She's not too thrilled with the idea. Good news for me.

"And if I pass this test…Thomas goes home to his wife?"

"Yes."

"And no more of this crap about me ending the world and all? 'cause the Old Man told me it's not written in stone."

Gaia just nods.

"Okay then." I grin at her, wide and bright. "Test away, sweetheart."

Me and my big damn mouth.

I blink and everything changes.

I don't know what in the hell I expected. MAybe some kind of wilderness walkabout, out in the middle of nowhere.

Looks like I'm in the Mall of America. Crowds of normals all around me this time, with shopping bags, pushing baby carriages. There's every kind of store you could imagine.

This is one half assed test.

"Hey, Dean," this voice says from behind. "You look pretty damn good for a dead man."

My hackles – I mean, the hair at the back of my neck -- stands straight up, stiff and painful. Something hard and round is jammed into the back of my head.

It's a gun. I try not to yawn. I can play along. See where they're going with this.

I raise my hands.

"Gordon Walker," I say out loud, and the sonofabitch behind me laughs. "Heard about you dropping the soap in the shower up in state prison. Bet you made a lotta friends up there, huh?"

Gordon laughs. "Same old smart ass. I like you, Dean. I do. You packing?"

"Uh…no."

"Yeah, right. Like I believe that. Hands on your head. On your knees."

I do as I'm told. Hey, I can play along, right?

The mall is suddenly swarming with FBI agents wearing bullet proof vests and armed to the teeth. All the normals scatter, and I'm kneeling in the center of a circle of the bastards.

'Well, well , well. Dean Winchester."

I know that voice too. Damn it all to hell…

Victor Hendricksen.

The dudes in black body armor part to let him through. He's smiling at me, but I'm not fooled. It's the kind of smile you give a person who you'd like to beat the hell out of, for starters. "Last time I saw you were on the coroner's gurney up in Vashon, Illinois. You remember that town, don't you, freak? You and your father and brother blew it all to hell."

"The part about hell's right," I mutter to myself, and Gordon growls at me.

Oh well. "You working with Gordon now? Damn, the FBI's really lowered their standards, huh?"

"That's what I like about you, Dean," Hendricksen says. "That smart mouth of yours."

"It's my burden and my curse." Gordon reaches up, cuffs my left wrist, and then my right, behind my back.

Still no big deal.

Hendricksen kneels in front of me. "Now I know you Winchesters travel in packs, so John and Sam have got to be around here somewhere, hiding like cockroaches underneath a rock. What do you say we look up baby brother and dear old Dad? I like family reunions, don't you, Dean?"

Not hardly. Time to shake things up around here.

I feel a shudder run through my body, from my head down to my toes.

I feel weak.

Last thing I wanna hear is Raven's voice inside my head. "Umm…I added a little something to the test. Hope you don't mind, pup. What you got inside you doesn't work here. Not unless you're willing to kill all these humans here. And if you do that, you'll just prove our point, yeah?"

First chance I get I'm killing his sorry ass, and using his feathers as pillow stuffing.

_Son of a bitch… _

* * *

_TBC next Tuesday._


	18. something you don't see every day

_**A/N:**_ Waves to _WatchOutForIce_. Glad you have you on board, grasshopper! This is the first time in this story that Dean and Coyote share. But they don't care.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

First up, Dean. He's pissed. Then Coyote realizes as screwed up as things are now, it's about to get worse than even _he_ imagines.

* * *

_**Chapter 18 - now that's something you don't see everyday**_

"Uh…Dean?" Sam says softly.

"Not now, dude, I'm busy." I hit the shield with my right fist, and the air around the house goes all bright and shiny, like a special effect in a Spielberg movie. I step back and watch the shock wave travel down the walls.

Nothing else happens.

This is drivin' me nuts.

I'm standing right at the top of the stairs, on the porch. Wide open spaces out there, scrub grass, a few of those freaky looking, ugly ass Joshua trees standing off in the distance. I can look, but I can't leave.

That snarky grin on Coyote's face _still_ pisses me off. Never mind that it's my face _too_. "Go inside, huh?" I hit the shield again. "Have some pie, huh?" Another hit. More of the same, namely nothing.

Dad and Sam are looking at me like I've lost my freaking mind.

"Dean, you do know what the definition of insanity is?" Sam hisses.

"Yep." Another hit. More nothing. I hit the shield each time I say a word. "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results!"

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. A big fat goose egg.

Sam's bitchface comes out, and that makes me smile. Hey, if you can't piss your family off, who can you have fun with, huh? What else am I gonna do? I'm stuck in this damn house, and where the hell did the Old Man get off, ditching me like that?

"Better not get killed, you mangy mutt, 'cause I'm gonna kick your furry ass first!" I yell out. I kick the sonofabitchin' shield this time. Nothing.

"DEAN!" Dad roars.

I freeze right where I stand.

"You finished throwing a tantrum, princess?" Dad says drily. He sits back on that wooden porch swing. I open my mouth to say something smartass, and then I remember who I'm talking to. I give Dad a cheesy little grin instead.

Dad shifts his weight, rubs at his right temple with one hand like his head hurts. "Dude, turn the volume down."

Sam's frowning like he's got a headache or something.

_Crap._ I forgot about us being linked like that. Didn't mean to turn up the volume.

Sam's got _that look._ I _can't_ leave. I'm trapped with Dr. Phil, and don't think Sasquatch doesn't know that. Huh. There's a spot that I didn't whack on before…

I look at the shield again; Dad shakes his head and I uncurl my fist. "We gotta talk about this, Dean. _All of this._ What we saw. What could happen."

At first I don't get it. I mean, I know Sam's gonna go all Phil McGraw on me, but …but this is Dad.

Dad's having a chick flick moment.

With me.

_Son of a bitch…_

I quirk one eyebrow at him and mutter "Christo."

"Funny," he rumbles.

Sam starts smirking, and I get it then. I do. They're gonna double team me on this.

I try to sound innocent. "No. No, we don't. I'm fine."

Dad rolls his eyes at me. He's not buying it. I can see why Coyote was nervous around him before. I can't read Dad sometimes. Way back when I was "normal"? I could key in on his body language and his facial expressions. Hell, it got to the point where we could finish each other's sentences, have a whole conversation with just a look. Now? It's off again, on again, and I gotta say right now I'm not too thrilled with this.

Sam? I can read him just fine. All the damn time, as a matter of fact.

"Nah, you're not. You haven't been for a while, have you?" Dad shakes his head. "Son, I'm sorry."

_Sorry? For what?_ Dad…_my Dad_, isn't supposed to talk like that. Not to _me_ anyway.

Dad shrugs. "I'm sorry I didn't see you were hurting before now."

I don't like this. I don't want to hear _this_. _Any of it._ If I wasn't sure I'd probably break my fool neck I'd make a break for the outside anyway. When Coyote and I brought Dad back from Hell, Dad told us that he wanted another chance to be a father.

Huh. Guess _that_ one came back to bite me on the ass, huh?

"I'm okay. I am. Really." My throat feels dry, like it's about to close up. I glance out at the desert, and just as I do those Joshua trees outside stop moving. These are about thirty of the butt ugliest damn ones I've ever seen.

One of them's a little slower than the rest. It puts its roots down and freezes in place.

What the hell?

I can see people inside them. Spirits. Men, women, and kids. Each one is all twisted up in the wood. Some of the damn trees have more than one spirit inside them. I count at least seven in that big bastard over on the left.

All of them are staring at _me_, and damn, they look pissed.

_You're next, dog boy. _

The hair on the back of my neck rises up, stiff and painful. So this is his stuff? The Old Man's got some damn explaining to do about this.

Sam doesn't notice the look on my face. Neither does Dad. They're so busy trying to share and care with me, they don't even realize the weird crap that's going on right behind them.

"Coyote wouldn't have left you here if you were one hundred percent," Dad says slowly. I know you're not, son. We're _gonna_ talk about this."

"Uh…Dad?" It's stupid, but that's the only thing I can think of to say.

"Dean?" Dad rumbles. "Start talking."

Outside one of the trees shakes itself and then pulls its roots out of the friggin' ground.

They're not bothering to hide anymore. They figure they can get in.

And we're toast.

The shorter ones, about waist high, hop over the ground. The big ones bend their thick roots and swing their branches as they walk forward. Those thick, sharp spikes curl and uncurl, like tentacles. Bet they could do a lot of damage. Maybe I could block them all, keep them away from Dad and Sam…

Or maybe not. I don't want to find out either way.

"Come on, Dean." Sam gives me those puppy dog eyes. I gotta get them outta here. I don't know how in the hell I'm gonna do that. I'm the dummy, remember? The macho one. I go by instinct most of the time, and that's one thing about me that_ hasn't_ changed. I'm not good with words. That's Sam's department, but I got a feeling...

Maybe…maybe I couldn't get out before because I was trying too damn hard.

Well, I'm in deep with my family no matter what I do, right?

I reach out with my mind and freeze Dad and Sam. Sam's startled. He gives me this really dirty look. Dad's pissed off. That dangerous glint in his eyes tells me I'm gonna pay for this later. Probably have to make a bear trap out of a box of toothpicks or something.

The Joshua tree nearest the house crashes against the shield, and the air around us vibrates like a tuning fork. Shield's coming down. I weakened the damn thing by pounding on it. A few more hits, and I probably would have been able to leave on my own.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: poetic irony's a twisted bitch, and she's in heat _all_ the damn time.

The spirits inside the tree grin and lick their lips as they push their way inside. They look hungry. Guess I'm on the menu today, me and Sam and Dad.

Think again, jackass.

I think about fire, and it happens. The wood's dry and it catches really quickly. Sonsofbitches stop grinning and start screaming, and that suits me just fine.

I make sure Dad and Sam leave first, and then I'm outta here.

* * *

_**Coyote POV**_

I admit it, I don't like being tied up.

Well, sometimes I do, if the right person is doing the tying, but I'm not saying anything more than that. I'm a wild dog, and wild things don't like ropes or collars. Or handcuffs.

This isn't the first time I've ever been weak and bound like this. There was that time down in New Orleans, with Marie Laveau. A dog like me doesn't have any problem bragging. That's what we do, but Marie has a temper, and she sure in the hell wouldn't like it if I went around telling _everything_ we did.

Uh huh, right. I know what you're thinking. Marie Laveau the Voodoo Queen died in 1891. You just keep thinkin' that.

Damn, I told you too much already.

Gordon Walker's grinning like a cat that just gulped down a canary. "What's the matter, Dean? Worried about Dad and Sam, huh?"

That dirty look I give him only makes him laugh. Hendrickson shakes his head. "What, that's_ it_? No smart ass remarks? Color me shocked."

Walker pushes me forward, and two of the SWAT cops fall in on either side and in front of me.

I keep my face blank, just like Dean would do. I don't say very much. Walker and Hendrickson fall in behind me.

Personally, I don't give a damn what these sonsofbitches think.

Walker's real, and so is Hendrickson. Don't know whose bright idea it was to invite them to the party. Raven, probably; sounds like one'a his dumb ideas. Since they're both here, maybe this is something I shoulda done a while ago. Start eliminating some threats, level the playing field for my kid.

What? Don't tell me you're surprised to hear me say _that_. I'm a trickster, remember? I can get rid of somebody without killing them.

Raven isn't as smart as he thinks he is.

First mistake was him thinking I'm Dean. And he _does_ think I'm the kid. Raven might be a trickster, but he's _not_ that good an actor.

Second mistake was him putting a damper on me.

I'm one of the First. The First Artist, and don't you _ever_ forget that. I can't be changed or tampered with like that. All that energy in me has to go somewhere.

You ever go on line, see some of those websites that talk about Coyote humor, how I'm supposed to teach people to laugh when things go wrong in life? You ever had one of those days when nothing goes right?

That's not _me_. I get blamed for that all the time. I mean, it's a good way to be, not taking things all that seriously, but that's _Murphy's_ Law, not mine. If I ever run into Murphy again I got a good mind to bite her on the ass. And not in a good way, either.

Making me weak like that, well, it changes things, makes everything around me go haywire. It's a ripple effect, and not even Raven or Gaia and her bunch can stop it. That's not something I like to advertise, y'know? I like to keep my secrets to myself.

These handcuffs are touching my bare skin? Chances are pretty good they'll be the first things to go.

Whatever they've got planned here isn't going to work. I don't know if it would have worked on Dean. Good thing I'll never have to find out.

Right then and there I figure I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

The floor shakes and ripples underneath so hard folks start slipping and sliding all over the place. Some of the shoppers start screaming, and I don't blame them for that. It goes on and on for a minute, and then two, like it's not ever gonna stop.

I lose my balance, hit the floor on my knees, and so do the cops around me. Walker lands on his ass. Hendrickson manages to stay on his feet somehow, and just when I'm hoping the sorry bastard doesn't see who popped in directly in front of us, I hear him whisper, "I'll be damned," and I know we're all screwed.

I see Dean, and John and Sam.

They fade in a few feet away, and the way the cops react reminds me that we're dealing with pros here, not just civilians. The SWAT cops are up in an instant, pointing their guns at them. Dean's out cold, and I know that Raven's whammy hit him as soon as he faded in. John and Sam don't look that happy to see me, and I don't blame 'em.

I'm halfway up on my feet, when I feel Hendrickson's hand on my back and a gun muzzle jammed into the back of my head. "Don't move," Hendrickson snarls at me.

The cops put the cuffs on my family real quick. I can't do a damn thing to stop any of this, and it's killing me inside.

_Dean?_

No answer.

_Pup, you better wake up when I'm talkin' to you._

_Son of a bitch,_ the kid mumbles inside my head.

Better.

His eyes blink open, and I can tell he doesn't know where he is for a second or two. Then his eyes focus, and he scowls at me. _I'm kicking your ass for this, Old Man._

Yep. My kid's back. _Sure you are. _

Dean's dragged up onto his knees, right next to John and Sam. Judging from the dirty looks they all give me, I'm not their favorite canine right now.

And then things get worse.

Well, don't say I didn't warn ya.

It gets real dark just then, but it's not like an eclipse. The light overhead weaves in and out. Whatever's moving around up there on the skylight is blocking out the sun.

I don't need to look up. I already know what it is. Or at least, what it _isn't_.

It's _not_ clouds.

It's tentacles. Hundreds of them. Dark green and scaly, each one the size of tall, ancient redwood trees, curling and waving over the glass.

Guess my mojo's stronger than I thought. It hits me then: if mine was bad enough, now that my kid's here, everything is gonna be doubled.

I can hear Raven inside my head. Stupid bastard sounds surprised. _That's not supposed to happen. Why the hell is this even happening?_

I know he can hear me. Even with everything that's happened, I still can't help being a smart ass.

_Well, damn. Now that's something you don't see every day._

_

* * *

_Next post Wednesday. Nothing like a little Winchester angst, a cosmic screw-up, screaming humans and ravenous fuglies to make you really appreciate a day at the mall…


	19. Fear and Loathing at the Mall

_**A/N:**_ Story Tagger picked up on the reference to "The Mist." Knew I couldn't sneak that one past you. That business in Illinois that Hendrickson refers to is the main story arc in "Dog Eat Dog."

_**POV:**_ Dean Winchester

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

* * *

_**Chapter 19 – fear and loathing at the mall**_

The crap should be hitting the fan right about now. The normals all around us should be running around screaming, and there's none of that. They just stand there and stare upwards, and nobody reacts, not even when one of the tentacles overhead stops and flattens itself against the skylight. The suckers are about the size of one of the Impala's tires, and it looks like it's trying to suck its way in.

Another minute or so, and the civilians stop looking up and pointing. They pick up their bags and go right on shopping and going to the food court. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Demons I get. Humans are crazy.

I got a bad feeling about this.

Dad clears his throat, looks at the SWAT guy standing next to him. I don't even need the link to know that he's gonna use his command voice on the dude. "Unlock these cuffs," Dad growls, and the cop laughs in Dad's face.

Oh, yeah. This couldn't _possibly_ get any worse, but this is _us_, remember? When things go south with the Winchesters, shit always hits the fan big-time.

One glance at Sam tells me that he's already tried to remove the cuffs he's wearing just by thinking about it. He looks at me and shakes his head a little. _Dean?_

Sam sounds like he's miles away, and I'm less than five feet away from him. The link's going down. I can feel it.

_I got nothing,_ I tell him, and that's when I hear the connection fade away completely.

_Son of a bitch. _

I had some weird dreams when I was younger. I'm not talking about dreams about screaming and fuglies. Nope, I used to dream that I was stark naked in a crowded public place. I mean bare assed, with no clothes on. Yeah, right, like that's something I'm gonna tell Sam or Dad. Dr. Phil would probably sprout some New Age crap about me feeling naked and defenseless.

Hell, I'm feeling _that _now.

I don't know what kind of game Gaia and her crew are playing at. I feel weak. I've felt that way ever since we popped into the Mall of America or where ever the hell this is.

And I _did_ mention before that we're screwed, right?

That's really Gordon Walker, right here and damn now, and over there is the real deal, FBI Special Agent Victor (I Will Hound Your Ass For All Eternity) Hendrickson standing right next to the Old Man. Coyote ignores the looks Hendrickson's giving him and decides to give me an evil look. What the hell? I wasn't the one who decided to lock his family up and run off.

I give Fuzzy the evil eye right back. Too bad I can't put any force behind it.

Hendrickson stares at me, and then the Old Man, and he finally grins, wide and bright, like he's figured everything out. He winks at Dad. "So. Identical twins, huh? That explains a lot, Papa. No wonder your boys were so damn hard to catch." He looks at Sam and smirks. "Sam got one too?"

"You dumb bastard," Dad mutters underneath his breath.

Hendrickson hooks Coyote by the elbow and drags him forward. "Come on, let's go see the folks." Coyote growls at him and for a split second I see that golden gleam in his eyes. I get it then. He's just as weak as I am.

Yep, this just keeps getting better and better. Hendrickson's got an irate Trickster by the elbow and the tentacles from Planet X are bumping and rolling against the skylight high over our heads, trying to find a way in.

Nobody looks up anymore. It's a busy shopping day down here at the mall, and I can't shake the feeling that a total shitstorm is on the horizon.

Coyote ignores Dad and Sam's bitchface, looks at me and narrows his eyes. "What part of stay put didn't you get?"

I snort at him. "Would have been a lot easier without those man-eating trees of yours."

The Old Man looks startled. "What?"

I get this weird tickling sensation at the back of my skull. The air fills with the sound of feathers, and I swear I can see 'em all around us, black and shiny. I know _what's_ coming, _who's _coming. Everything, everyone, stops dead in their tracks, frozen, except me, Dad, Sam and Coyote.

Sam leans forward, stares the cop right next to him in the face. He waggles his eyebrows at the dude. Nothing.

"Boys?" Dad mutters.

Coyote and I say it at the same time. "It's not us."

Giving Gordon and Hendrickson a good hard head butt and then shagging ass out of here before whatever this is wears off sounds like a pretty decent plan, but then Gaia steps in out of thin air right in front of us.

Crap.

She looks just as pissed off as she did before, and my right fist itches as I look at that pinched blonde face. I don't hit chicks, at least, not the human kind, but in her case I'd make an exception. Raven's right beside her, holding that black, red and yellow striped blanket of his like that kid in those Charlie Brown cartoons.

I really want to plant my right boot in his tail feathers.

"This isn't right. _None_ of this is right." He looks at me and snaps that beak of his shut. "Old Man, what did you do?"

Huh? Coyote and I start grinning at each other. This jackass can't tell us apart. _Sweet._

I rock back and forth on my heels a little bit. "_We_ didn't do anything, crowbait."

Coyote smirks at him. "Not so tricky are ya, Daffy?"

Raven bristles. He sticks his chest out. "That's a duck. I'm Raven."

Coyote shrugs. "Well, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…"

Gaia glances up at the skylight overhead, and this slow, sneaky smile crawls across the bitch's face.

I don't like that. Not one damn bit.

The tentacles over our heads stop, almost as though they're listening to every word we say.

"This might be even better than what we planned," she says, and that's exactly what I don't want to hear.

She looks at Coyote and smiles. "The end result will be the same, Dean Winchester. We'll let this scenario roll on. You'll show your true, dark colors. The loss of human life will be enough to convince my people that you are a threat to all there is."

She thinks he's me. Wait a damn minute…

The Old Man shakes his head. "Look, you got me."

Gaia smiles coyly. "So what is this now?"

He shrugs. "You don't need to do this." He shrugs his shoulders at the people frozen in place all around us. "You got me. You don't need anybody else."

I'm pissed off at him for ditching me, but I trust the furball. He had his reasons. Maybe. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna kick his ass.

Gaia smiles. "Are you offering yourself to me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Take me. Do whatever you want to me. Let Thomas leave with my family. Let him go back home to his wife."

"How sweet." She stares at me and wrinkles her nose like she's smelling a gas leak. "Roamer would never offer himself up for another. He cares only for himself."

When she looks at Coyote again her eyes widen slightly as if she's seeing a different side of him. Well, me. "It's a shame you have nothing to offer, Dean. You're mine either way."

Gaia and Raven disappear in a heartbeat. They must have hit the reset button then, because everyone starts moving again.

"John Winchester," Gordon smiles as he looks at Dad. "You're looking mighty good for a dead man."

Dad nods. "I got better."

Yeah, if you only knew.

Hendrickson pulls this black magic marker out of his jacket pocket. "Officers? Need some help over here."

Two of the SWAT guys come over and grab hold Coyote on either side, while a third grips his head. The Old Man isn't very happy about that. Hendrickson leans in and puts a stripe down the right side of Coyote's face. "You're one." Coyote snaps at him with his teeth and Hendrickson laughs.

Next thing I know two of these bastards in black are holding me in place, just like the other two did the Old Man. I try to jerk my head away and the third one grabs a handful of my hair and my chin. "Hey, wait a minute! Get your damn hands off me!"

Hendrickson smirks. "You're two."

I get two stripes on the right side of my face. Dad and Sam move towards me and they're pulled back by the rest of the cops in black.

"Now we're going to take a little trip." Hendrickson slaps me on the back so hard I stagger a little.

Overhead Octopus Boy has started moving again, like it can't _wait_ to meet us.

Hendrickson grins at me, and I get it. That's the same smirk I give cops, snug and cocky. Payback is a bitch. "There's a field office nearby. And this time Dean, you're not gonna be able to pull that Houdini act of yours. And I really wanna know about that backwoods hoodoo you boys did up in Illinois."

Oh, great. Vic wants to know about Vashon, Illinois. Me and the Old Man didn't exactly cover ourselves in glory there. I can see it now: "Well, see, that wasn't us. It was that damn Yellow-Eyed Demon. He opened up a hellmouth, and oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention those demon possessed chimps that tried to kill us." That's a one-way trip to a padded cell for sure.

Been there, done that.

"Uh, excuse me," Sam says. "Have you looked up lately?"

"Up?" Gordon frowns. "Why?" He glances up and the look on his face doesn't change. "It's just clouds."

"What?" Sam frowns. "Since when do clouds have suckers?"

"Suckers?"

"Those are tentacles up there!"

Walker laughs and shakes his head. "Sam. You do drugs too, huh?" He shakes his head and clucks his tongue. "Thought _you_ were the straight one."

Hendrickson smiles at Dad. "Come on, now. We got a lot of things to talk about, fellas. It'll be just like old times." He takes Coyote by the elbow and turns him around towards the exit behind us. The Old Man bristles every time Hendrickson does that. Hey, he's a wild dog, and besides, who the hell likes being dragged around like that?

Next to the exit is the display window of this high class toy store. It's filled with just about every stuffed toy you can imagine. There's a life sized gorilla, a couple of horses, an ostrich, and three zebra.

The cops close up ranks around us, and I get a dull throb, right between my eyes. I stumble into the cop walking beside me. He shoves me back on my feet, and that pisses me off.

After all my family has done for these bastards, and_ this_ is the thanks we get?

Things get real weird. Real quick.

King Kong moves.

He thumps his chest with both hands. Some of the normals see him and stop dead in their tracks.

That makes me laugh.

Kong picks up a heavy display rack of overpriced t shirts and tosses it into the air and through the glass store front.

That gets everyone's attention, all right.

The other animals decide to join the party. Rabbits run underfoot and the six foot tall ostrich kicks the hell out of the two store clerks. The store sounds like a zoo at feeding time with all the noise, and within seconds the customers are screaming and running out of the store like they should have been when they saw all that calamari crawling around on the skylight.

"What the hell?" Hendrickson glares at me. Gordon moves closer to Sam. I don't like that at all. He still thinks Sam's the AntiChrist. In the next second two things happen that make me feel a little better about this whole mess.

The department store dummies in the displays around us come to life. A blonde in a green sundress jumps down off her pedestal and wades into the SWAT guys. She cold cocks two of them and she doesn't stop, not even when they knock her head off.

Second thing is, my handcuffs fall right off.

I'm moving before they even hit the floor. First one I go after is Gordon. He looks surprised as I drill him right in the face with my fist.

Damn, that felt good.

Dad's cuffs are off now. He grins a little as he dusts both cops on either side of him.

Sam clocks the three cops who try to rush in and restrain him.

That big brown stuffed horse runs out of the store and slams into several of the cops around us. They hit the floor like bowling pins. The horse snorts and prances in place, then goes after three more SWAT guys. When they point their guns at the thing the guns fall apart. They look shocked.

The horse chases them off in the opposite direction, and I try not to laugh, you know? It's not funny, but in a way it kinda is.

Everything around us is moving now. It's not just the things in the toy store. All the dummies come to life and start running after people all over the place. The entire mall has gone apeshit crazy. I can't put it any better than that. I can hear glass breaking, screaming and people running all over the place. This pissed off looking black and white cow comes barreling out of this candy store nearby, in hot pursuit of the store clerk and all the customers.

I don't even want to know where that one came from.

I turn around just in time to see Coyote clock Hendrickson and lay him out cold on the floor.

Damn…feels like the top of my friggin' head is about to come off.

I close my eyes, press the heels of both palms against my palms. I nearly lose my balance and the ground underneath my feet slips slideways.

_You don't want to leave now, do you, Dean? _This voice inside my head whispers. It's friendly. When I listen to it the pain in my head goes away.

I know that voice. It sounds like me. It sounds like the Old Man, but it's not him, either.

_We're just getting started. You like what we've done so far, don't you? Remember all that stuff we did before? Good times. _

This isn't Gaia. Not that loser Raven, either.

_Come on, dude, you can come out and play. There's a whole world out here._

I open my eyes and the pain stops. It's like all the crap that had been bothering me just falls away, you know? I feel good. Damn good, as a matter of fact.

We're surrounded, and that doesn't bother me either.

It's wall to wall critter all around us now, in a circle. King Kong has this security guard by the right ankle and he puts the dude down, lets him crawl away into this store nearby. The humans inside pull him inside and close the doors.

That makes me laugh. The doors are glass, asshat. You really think that's going to keep us out?

Kong sits down and stares at me. The rest of the dummies and the animals fidget in place. They're all waiting. Just for me.

Dad and Sam stare at my eyes. They're not green anymore. They're golden.

So what the hell is wrong with that?

"You should see your faces," I rumble. My voice is deeper than usual, and I don't care.

I look around at the people. That security guard reminds me of this sheriff I met on a job up in Montana a few years back. Sheriff Ira Bronson. He had me locked up overnight.

I know it's not him, but there's nothing around with a little payback.

Speaking of which, I still have Gordie and Vic to play with.

The Old Man knows.

He gets it. I can tell by the way his back and shoulders stiffen. He shakes his head as he turns around.

Coyote looks sad. "Dean. Kid, you gotta stop this."

Headache's gone. I feel fine now. I smirk at him. "Don't wanna."

"Thought you were smarter than this, pup. The power comes from both of us. Always has. Half's mine, and I want it back."

Should've known the furball wouldn't understand.

I shake my head. "You never let us have any fun." I jerk my head towards the humans cowering in the storefronts. "That? _That's _fun."

* * *

Next post Saturday.


	20. dark side of the son

_**A/N: **_For nancylou and SaintsGhost. I'm posting two chapters this week, with one chapter posted each week after that.

* * *

_**Chapter 20 – dark side of the son**_

POV: Coyote:

Nothin's changed about my kid. He's still wearing the same battered brown leather duster, and those dusty jeans. Same hair, same face.

Nothin's changed, but everything about him has.

He's the brightest and the darkest thing around for miles. The air around him burns bright gold, like his eyes. I stare at my pup, and all I can think of is: _I lost him._

He was right in front of me the whole time. I kept my mouth shut. I kept an eye on him and I lost him anyway.

_We've got a secret, Old Man. Just between us dogs._

Damn Gaia and Raven. They warped the rules of reality in this place. Changed things. Stupid bastards don't know what they've done.

That fed, that Hendrickson, is still on the floor. He's got his gun in his hand, but it's not doing him any good. He's frozen in place, just like Walker and the SWAT guys. The dummies and the stuffed animals all stand around waiting for Dean to tell them what to do next. I hold onto what power I can, but he's got most of it, and he knows it. It's worse than before, when I first came out, and we were playing tug o' war with each other.

Dean smirks at me, and I know that nothing I say is gonna make any damn difference. He's not listening to me. He can't. All he can hear is the thunder of two hearts in his chest, his power roaring inside his head. It sings in his blood, rumbles and howls underneath his skin.

I know because I felt the same way when I went dark.

And you know what? For a moment I feel like joinin' him. I feel like saying, "Okay, you're right. Let's have some fun. Let's tear these damn humans up!"

I remember how it was back in the day. Being shot by ranchers just because I wasn't human. Having dog packs sic'd on me, even when I wasn't even doing anything. Never mind that I put the mutts and their humans in their places, usually six feet under, there were other 'yotes out there who couldn't fight back like I could.

I saw things I wish I could forget. Bodies of dead coyotes strung up on fences that stretched for miles. Dead 'yotes piled up like dead leaves, with their ears and tails cut off.

I look at the humans, and _hatefearpanic _rolls off 'em so thick and so strong it makes my throat close up. Even though I'm two legged now, my lips skin back from my teeth. I wanna bite them. I wanna hear them scream. If the tables were turned, they'd kill me and my family just as soon as look at us, quick, fast and in a hurry.

Then I look at Sam and Dad, and all that bad feeling goes away.

I smell the sadness in their skins. They're afraid_ for_ Dean, but they're not afraid _of_ him. Wouldn't blame 'em if they hated me for what he's become, but if they do, I can't feel any of that.

Doesn't make me feel any better, though.

When Dean was a kid I curled up in the headspace and listened to his mom…_our_ mom sing "Hey Jude" to us at bed time. Baked cookies and laughter and having a family…that was all I ever wanted. I was happy when I found out we were gonna have a little brother, and after that everything went straight to hell. Dean walled me up 'cause he was afraid we'd hurt Sam, and then that yellow-eyed sonofabitch came one night and took it away. Back in that hellhole in Illinois Sam and Dad and that Singer fella protected Dean and me when we were sick. I'd gotten used to Sam, but I was scared to death of Dad, thought he did protected us both because of Dean and I was just part of the package. I was wrong. They did it for us. Even that Bobby did, even after I tried to kill him when he stuck that shotgun in my face while I was driving.

Back there at Joe Ball's place was the clincher. Dad took up for us. He called me his son. Have I gone soft? I dunno. Maybe. I've got what I always wanted now. I got a family.

And I might not have it for long.

Gordon Walker disappears in a snap of yellow light. He re-appears on his knees, right in front of Dean. Walker's frozen in place, dazed, glassy eyed. Dean winks at him. "Guess you went after the wrong brother, huh, bro'?"

Somethin' bad's gonna happen, and I won't stop it.

Dad tries. He's not using his command voice, he can't, not in this place, but he tries to reach the kid anyway. "Dean. Son, don't do this."

The "Who, me?" look Dean gives us is pretty damn convincing. Nobody's fooled, though. Dean's bright and dark, but he's _smiling red murder_ that even a blind man could sense. Walker starts shaking all over so hard his teeth chatter.

"Dean," Sam shakes his head slowly. "Please, Dean-"

"Please what, Sam?" Dean shrugs out of his duster, and that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight out, stiff and painful.

My ears are normal, human ones, but they twitch a little at the buzzing sound I hear. Angry bees. The underside of Dean's duster throws off specks of dark gold and black.

"You cold, Gordon?" Dean says. Walker's head wobbles up and down, like some damn bobblehead toy. He's not doing it. Dean is.

"See? He's cold." Dean looks down at the man and grins, sly and wolfish. "Just thought I'd give ol' Gordie here a hand."

_(…no…wait…)_

Dean drops his duster over Walker's shoulders.

_(…don't…do that…)_

As soon as the leather touches his skin Walker's dark brown skin turns a sickly pinkish color and his nose, lips and fingers turn black. Boils push out from underneath his skin, on his face, hands and neck. His body's covered with them. I can smell the sickness in the air around, wet and rotting. It prickles and burns the inside of my nose.

For once in my life, I'm too shocked to say any damn thing. Back in the day, when I turned dark, I could drop my pelt on someone. They'd get sick from disease and die.. Second time my kid's used his duster like that. First time was back at Joe Ball's place, when he killed that white gator, the First Ilumu.. Served that scaly bastard right. It was him or us.

This is different. Worse. Walker's unarmed. He's no damn threat. He slumps forward, and I know Dean's using his power to hold him up. I can't even tell if he's still breathing. If he's not dead, he's gonna be, real soon.

_(I…I didn't wanna to do that…)_

What the hell?

_(…why did I do that…)_

Who's that? Who's-

_(..tried to stop myself…couldn't..)_

Dean.

It's my kid. The real one, the human. He's reaching out to me. Connection's bad. His thought voice fades in and out.

Dad and Sam don't react, so I know they can't hear us. 'm glad they can't.

_(Niño?)_

I open myself up, and the power and the glory singing in my kid's veins makes me stagger.

_Roamer…_

_Come join us, Old Man…_

I want to.

_We miss you… _

With all my heart, I want to…

_Come back…_

I can't.

_(…no...)_

I break the connection.

_(…don't' leave m-)_

Dean looks happy. Proud of himself, like a young kid who's done something and wants his family to back him up. _See what I did? _that look says._ I messed this bastard up good, and I did this all for you guys_, _Don't you like what I did?_

Dad doesn't. And neither does Sam.

I pick up on their thoughts (_Dean, No!_ _What the hell did you do?) _and Dean's eyes spark dark yellow, not gold. His power turns sharp and razor-edged, drowns out everything else inside him. He's pissed off now. He's shocked. This isn't what he expected or what he needed from us.

_uswebloodfamily_ doesn't matter, not anymore, not this minute. Dean thinks we've abandoned him.

And he's not gonna allow that. Not anymore.

I feel his rage in the air, yellow and throbbing and ancient; it takes the shape of a huge coyote in the air around him, head lowered, back humped, its teeth bared in a wide, vicious gape.

_That's it, _I think to myself._ We gotta go. _

The leading edge of his power surges towards us. My eyes blaze yellow as I use all the juice I have, all I've got and some of Dean's too. I know a trick or two. They don't call me the Magician for nothing.

I cast my power out around Sam _(No, we can't leave-)_ and Dad _(Old Man, what the hell are you-)_

_SONOFABITCH! _

Sam grabs his head and Dad staggers a little.

_DON'T YOU LEAVE ME, Y'HEAR? DON'T YOU-_

The kid's too damn strong. My legs buckle as I take most of the force. Feels like somebody's jammed an ice pick right between my eyes.

Everything goes white.

I nearly lose it then, but as I hit the ground on my hands and knees there's sand underneath my palms. I feel sunlight on my skin, and when I can see again there's wide open blue sky above us, scrub brush and Joshua trees, red mountains in the distance.

We're out, but we're not safe.

I cock my head to one side. I can't hear Dean's thought voice anymore.

Dad glares at me, and his hands curl up into fists. Sam's all wide-eyed but then it suddenly hits me that they're staring at something behind me. Next thing I know I'm grabbed from behind. Someone's arm slides around my throat. My head's yanked backward as he drags me up onto my feet. I smell gun oil and gunpowder. There's an arm outstretched beside my face with a gun pointed at Sam and Dad.

Scent's familiar. I know who this is.

"HANDS, GENTLEMEN! RAISE THEM SLOWLY AND KEEP THEM WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! I SAID DO IT NOW!"

Victor Henrickson's got me. I must have 'ported him out too when I grabbed Sam and Dad.

My eyes flash golden. The firing pin in Hendrickson's gun vanishes, along with the rounds in the chamber, but 'm just getting started. Nobody points a gun at my family.

_Nobody._

Dad and Sam look at each other and smirk. Dad actually grins at Hendrickson. "Uh, I think you just made a big mistake."

"No mistake, Winchester. I don't know how we got here, but this doesn't change a thing."

"Okay. Suit yourself." Dad shrugs. He looks at me and nods. "Old Man, he's all yours."

That makes me chuckle out loud, low and deep enough to shake the air around us. Dumbass finally gets it. He freezes, then tries to tighten his hold on me. Too little, too late.

Hendrickson's gun falls apart into pieces of rusted metal.

I shiftshape.

My spine, legs and arms bend and stretch. I go from six feet one to seven feet tall in less than a second. Hendrickson gasps out loud as his boot heels leave the ground. My clothes disappear, and my pelt explodes out of my skin. My tail bangs against Hendrickson's legs; it's wagging from side to side. Damn thing always did have a mind of its own. I'm twice as broad as the largest human, with twice the muscle, all blond fur and teeth and claws. He's still got his arm around my neck, but now it's a question of who's got who. Tables are turned, jackass.

Ever see that movie Van Helsing? The last one, I mean, with that Jackman fella? Remember how those werewolves looked? If I didn't know any better, I'd think that those special effects guys saw me way back in the day.

Hendrickson's feet dangle in mid-air. I don't even have to turn around, I can see the shocked look on his face as he stares at the back of my head.

_What big ears you've got, Grandma._

_'cuse me darling, you've mistaken me for that no-account wolf again._

I throw my head back and howl at the sky above.

"Jesus Christ!" Hendrickson yelps.

I reach back behind me with both paws and hook my claws into that bulletproof Eff Bee Eye vest of his. The fed hangs on for dear life; he throws both arms around my neck this time. Doesn't bother me. I don't need to breathe. I peel him off my back and toss him high into the air.

Dad and Sam give me this look like, _Dude. Don't kill him._

I'm in a mean mood. My hackles are raised, my tail is bushed out, and I'm all teeth. I wanna hurt someone. Real bad. Right now.

Hendrickson hits the ground spread-eagled on his back. He hits hard, but he'll live. I make sure'a that. He never passes out, just lies there staring up at the sky, frozen, as this dust cloud rises up all around him and then settles. I drop down on all fours and then I leap up into the air.

Hendrickson's eyes get big as saucers as I come down right on top of him. I land with all four paws on the ground, on either side of his body. I lean down until we're nose to nose. I don't yip or bark at him. I roar. He goes all squinty-eyed, his skin and clothes ripple like he's out in a high wind.

Wouldn't take much to open his throat up with my teeth. He's hunted my kid and my family down like dogs. I roar again, even louder this time, and I'm really enjoying the panicked look on his face.

Dad and Sam walk up behind me.

"Coyote?" Dad says softly. He touches me lightly, firmly, on my right shoulder, and I shiver. That's not his command voice. "Stand down, son."

I ease up on him, and Hendrickson starts sputtering. His eyes dart from me to Dad and then Sam, then back to me again. I wink at him.

"Wh—what-what the h-hell is th-this?"

"Like my Dad said," Sam says smugly. "You made a real big mistake."

Dad smirks at him. "How'd you find us?"

"What?"

_"Come on Vic. Let me make this easy for you." _Dad uses his command voice. "_How'd you find us?"_

Hendrickson flinches. Then his eyes go dull. "I was at work. The woman and the black bird showed up in my office."

"Gaia and Raven," I rumble. I wanna bite them so badly my teeth ache.

_"What's the last thing you remember?"_

"I was at work. Then I was at the mall. With…with Gordon Walker." His eyes flicker, confused. "I don't know how I got there."

"Figures." Dad sounds grim. "Gaia and Raven snatched them. They're real people, not something they majick'd up, and so are those people in the mall."

Sam shakes his head. "We gotta go back."

My back humps up when I hear that. I tuck my tail between my legs as I step off Hendrickson. I walk away for a few feet. "No, we don't. We're not."

Sam follows me, just like I knew he would. Dad just stands there, silent.

"What the hell do you mean we're not going back?" Sam's puzzled at first. "Dean's back there. We can't leave him-"

I don't even turn around. "We're not going back. This isn't Nowhereland. This is…_someplace_ else. Only way you can get outta here is if I take you. And I'm not gonna."

Sam goes straight into bitchface. I feel the heat on my back, like the open door of a blast furnace, and I don't react when he grabs me with his mind. I'm pulled up onto my hind legs, turned around and slammed into the trunk of the nearest Joshua tree. The rough bark and needles dig into my back, but I barely feel it. That's nothing compared to how low I'm feeling inside.

My family can hate me for this. I don't expect them to understand.

Sam's up in my face, with his chin stuck out, fisting the fur of my ruff with both hands. "You're going to take us back, y'hear me?"

"No, I'm not."

Dad walks towards us.

"What the hell is the matter with you!" Sam yells. "We gotta go back for Dean-"

I roll my eyes at him. "We go back, we'll never get out again. Don't tell me you didn't feel how pissed off he was when we left?"

"Dean would never hurt us-"

"He wouldn't?" I tilt my head to one side, and the grin I give him is sharp enough to cut. "He tried to scramble our brains when I 'ported us out, or did you really think he was sending you moonbeams, good thoughts and well wishes, college boy? Oughta send you back there. Give you what you want and see how well you like it. Let big brother fix you good for leavin'."

Sam glares at me, and I never stop smirking. There's pressure on my ribs, sharp and hard, almost to the breaking point. Sam wants to hurt me.

And I think 'm gonna let him.

"Go ahead. Do it." I raise my arms up and out to my sides. "Break my bones if you wanna. Have at it."

_"Sam? Calm down."_ Sam's eyes glaze over slightly. All the tension goes out of his body and the pain in my ribs disappears. He lets go, and Dad looks at me. _"You too, Old Man. Send me back alone. You boys stay here."_

Dad's command voice doesn't work on me. I won't let it. When I say "No" his eyes narrow, but he doesn't miss a beat.

"All right then," Dad says in a normal voice. He turns and nods towards the fed on the ground. "Send Hendrickson back instead."

That makes me laugh. "Don't kid a kidder, Papa." I sound more sarcastic than I feel. . Last time I called Dad "Papa" was back when I didn't trust him and tried to protect Dean from him. " 'm a trickster, remember? I send Hendrickson back, you'll grab ahold and hitch a ride as I 'port 'im out."

"Damn," Dad whispers.

Something inside me breaks as I turn away from them.

_(…Old Man…)_

I drop down to all fours and start walking. I get smaller with each step, until I'm the size of a normal 'yote.

_(…damn it…you can hear me...I know you can…)_

I don't care if Dad and Sam hate me for this. I don't.

_(…you have to stop me...)_

They're not goin' anywhere.

_(…kill me…)_

I won't listen. I won't. I flatten my ears as I curl up on the ground with my back to Dad and Sam.

_(…kill me before I-)_

We're not going back to that place.

* * *

Next: Gaia and Raven realize that turning Dean dark was the worst mistake of their lives. And the last mistake they'll ever make. TBC Wednesday.


	21. no more water, the fire next time

_**Chapter 21 – no more water, the fire next time**_

_**Soundtrack for this one**_: _Dark Phoenix's Tragedy_, by John Powell, from _X3: The Last Stand_.

_**A/N the first: **_Chapter title taken from the spiritual _"Oh Mary, Don't You Weep"_ which I thought was highly appropriate, and the line "God gave Noah the rainbow sign, no more water, the fire next time."

_**A/N the second:**_ Okay, I admit it, I got up Wednesday ready to post, read the chapter, and I didn't like it. That happens sometimes. I know this is fanfiction, and nothing's perfect, but still...

What I'm posting now is a big improvement over what I had before, and it makes sense.

Well, about as much sense as a story about a hunter/trickster god driven temporarily insane by absolute power can make. In _Devil's Trap_ Dean told Sam: "The things I do, for you and Dad…they scare me sometimes…."

Be afraid. Be _very_ afraid.

* * *

_**POV: **_Dark (Coyote) Dean

I don't…I don't believe this…

They ditched me.

My family _ditched_ me.

After all I've done for them, _this_ is the damn thanks I get?

They left me. They fucking left me!

I throw my head back and the sound that comes out of me shakes and rattles the building.

I'm gonna kill somebody. Right the hell NOW_._

_(…no…)_

I flex my power out around me, and the air fills with dust and debris. The leading edge rumbles through this row of pushcarts lined up over by the fountain. The carts flip end over end up into the air, and when they come crashing down popcorn, sunglasses and tee shirts go flying everywhere.

The SWAT guys go down like ten pins, still frozen in place. Any other time that would strike me as being pretty funny, but I'm not amused.

_(…no more…)_

It feels so good at first I don't pay attention to what I'm doing. All I can feel is something being ripped and torn apart with my mind.

_(...no more blood on my hands...)_

Heads and limbs fly up into the air. I see blonde and dark hair. A horse head. Human heads, but they don't look quite right.

Short dark fur flies up into the air. Next thing I see is a gorilla head, and that's when I get it.

Kong. He's staring right at me. He looks surprised. And I don't give a damn. I rip him apart and I can't stop grinning to myself 'cause it feels so damn good!

Next thing I know I'm standing knee deep in a pile of manikin heads and limbs, ripped up fake fur and animal heads. I'm still on edge. I need more. My hearts beat hard against my ribs. Doesn't hurt. The rhythm fills me up instead.

I look down at my feet and see Gordon lying on his side, still wrapped in my duster. He's no fun anymore. Before he went after Sam I remember a time when I actually liked the guy.

Don't know what the hell I was thinking then.

I lean down to take my duster back and when I look down at myself what I see makes me grunt out loud.

_What the hell?_

I see myself , but there's dark gold energy all around me. I raise my arms, open my hands, palms up, then down. Whatever this is looks like fur.

Huh. I got claws.

One of the storefronts across the way didn't break, so I mosey on over to take a look at myself. I step over the SWAT guys to get there, and my reflection lights up their eyes as I walk over them.

They look scared shitless.

I feel heavier. Bigger. I look down at my feet. Each step I take burns a mark into the floor, but it's not boot prints. It's paw prints.

When I walk up to the glass the humans hiding in the store yell out and run further back into the place. I ignore their asses. Whatever this ghost image is, I can see straight through it. I see my human face and body at the center, but the energy around me looks like a giant two legged coyote on steroids. It's like some freaky hologram effect, one layered over the other.

I lean forward, cock my head to one side, and stare at myself. My eyes aren't green anymore. I see bright yellow and dark gold fire, bright and hot, swirling around itself like flame in a high wind.

I touch my face, and I can feel my claw tips against my cheek, through all that glowy fur. I open my mouth, and my 'yote self does too. I twist around and look at my ass.

I've got a tail.

And it's wagging.

I get this. I do. This is _my _power. _My_ strength. _My_ will.

I do a bodybuilder pose like Schwarzenegger did back in the day. I flex my biceps, wiggle my big ears at my reflection. Then I lean forward, until my noses nearly touch the glass. When I breathe the glass melts, sending up in a cloud of hot steam that tickles my nose.

The humans in the store whimper and try to keep quiet. I still know they're in there.

_(…damn you…)_

I got plenty to play with here. Gaia and Raven are expecting a big show, huh? I'm in the mood to give 'em one they won't ever forget.

_(…leave them alone…)_

I turn away and walk back to the middle of the mall.

Hendrickson's SWAT team. They're frozen, but I can smell _hatefear_ rolling off them. They wanna kill me. Hell, every human in the place wants to gank me. The feeling's mutual, but these dudes have guns. _Big_ ones.

That oughta do it, so I unfreeze them. They get right down to business. They scramble to their feet, raise their weapons and go full auto on my ass.

I see everything, all at once, the muzzle flashes, over and over. Hundreds of incoming bullet trails in the air, coming right at me. I feel lighter. Smaller. I glance down at myself and I can't see my power anymore.

_(…can't live like this…)_

Something's….wrong…

_(…suicide by cop…)_

I dropped my shields. Why the hell did I-

_(…gank myself…) _

Sonofabitch!

Head's spinning, and all I can hear is the thunder of guns and the roar of my own hearts. No time to figure out who's fucking with my head, there's no damn time, I'm out of it. I pull and push at all the power I can, inside and out, from everywhere. I take it _all_ back, even the traces from the store dummies and the stuffed animals on the floor.

I put my right hand up. The air in front of me turns yellow and thick. Everything slows down, but it's too little, too late. I jerk my head to the side. The bullet that would've punched into my right eye stripes my cheek instead. The first wave hits what little protection I managed to throw up. The shield buckles and slams into me. Feels like I ran face first into a brick wall. Everything goes white and I go flying backwards.

I hit the floor hard enough to crater it. Chunks of marble tile break off and cut my skin. As soon as I land the SWAT guys rush forward and form a circle around me. Even mall security has gotten in on the act. Three rent-a-cops come out of hiding with their guns in hand, ready to join the party.

The mood in the place has turned.

They're happy I'm hurt.

_WE GOT THE SONOFABITCH! WE GOT HIM!_

Don't have to be able to read minds to pick up on that.

My head fills with the stutter of my hearts and that stupid fucking voice.

_(…have to stop myself…)_

I know who this is. And it's _not _the Old Man.

Blood in my mouth, and the pain's pretty bad. I broke all my ribs when I landed, and I'm pretty sure I've been hit more than once. I'm on my hands and knees, about to be put out of my misery like a some rabid mutt. My fingers shake as I wipe my chin. I look at the blood and for some reason that makes me smile a little.

I'm _not _dying.

_Not_ like this. And _not_ today.

The SWAT guys open fire again.

_(…stop myself…)_

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

I hear the words, and it's my voice, _MINE_, just like that other voice in my head, but I'm not sure I said anything out loud. All I know is I throw out all the power I have, everything inside me.

My hearts growl, snarl, and roar at the whole world.

NOT DYING. NOT LIKE THIS. NOT LIKE THIS-

For a moment I can't see anything but dark yellow, can't hear anything but automatic weapons fire. The air around me shakes as hundreds of rounds hit. I can smell hot lead all around me, smoke, oil and gunpowder. I can taste the metal in the shells.

Death hangs in the air all around me, and it hasn't touched me. It won't. My shield held this time.

I laugh out loud, low and deep. The floors and the walls shake.

They wasted all that ammo on me. They can have it all back.

The rounds zip backwards, right into the SWAT team and the mall cops. More glass breaks as bullets ricochet all over the place. I hear screaming too. Sounds like some of the civilians were hit. Several of the SWAT guys dance and jitter in place, firing up into the air as they're hit. They firing until they fall down.

I'm in the center of a circle of fresh meat. They're dead.

I'm _not_.

_(…no…)_

I reach inside myself, and that's when I see where that voice is coming from. It looks like a firefly, bumping and tapping against the roof of my skull. He's what's left of the old me. The weak one.

I grab him like a kid grabbing a firefly, and then I crush him. When I let go he's limp, all crumpled up like a piece of paper. His light flickers and then goes dim. I don't feel a damn thing. I feel good. I mean, _really_ good.

The old me went bawling like a bitch to the Old Man. Tred to trick me into killing myself, but he couldn't. Coyote didn't come back. He left. He left because he knows he can't stop me either.

I don't remember standing up, but I must have. I look down at myself and my power is there, just like before. I'm whole again. Healed. My power fills the air around me. I've got my duster back. Even those stupid black marks Hendrickson drew on my face are gone.

I throw my head back and I howl, long and loud. _I'm still standing, bitches. Who's next?_

No one answers.

Didn't think they would.

The clouds above shift dark and light. I see the Others up there, shadows that look like gigantic whales, wind elementals, cloud shapes that aren't really clouds. There's a moment of shocked silence, and then everybody scatters, all the fugs, the godlings and the pretenders. The streets empty out fast, and the sky overhead is suddenly clear.

When I look up at the skylight Tentacle Boy draws back like he's afraid of me. He curls in on himself, tries to make himself as small as possible. He looks like a mutant octopus, with spines and teeth in his suckers that the regular ones don't have. No eyes, either. He looks pretty damn familiar, and now that I've got a real good look at him, I realize why.

I remember where I've seen him before. That Stephen King movie, _The Mist._ Those folks trapped in that supermarket with all those fugs hanging around in the fog? Raven bitched about how he didn't know where Squiddy came from or how he got up there. I know _where_ and _how_. Should have known all along.

I created him. I thought him up out of thin air.

The old me wouldn't make living things out of thin air. He'd magic up inanimate objects only, like guns and stuff. That just shows what a damn fool he was. I'm not making that same mistake.

Squiddy's time is up. He makes this weird screeching sound like a scalded cat as I draw my power out of him and bend it to my will. He was a whim, a mistake. I can do better than that.

My mom fades into view right in front of me. Smiling. Beautiful. Perfect.

When she raises her hand and cups the side of my face I lean into her touch. Her hand's warm, soft. Dad's been so damned lonely without her. This is the least I can do for him.

Jessica and Madison. Jessica has on that Smurfs nightshirt she wore the first time I saw her. Madison looks calm and happy. I don't know which one Sammy wants more. He'll tell me when I see him. One or both. Doesn't matter to me. Whatever makes him happy.

Coyote's daughter Bertha Two-Dogs and her husband Thomas appear next. Redd and Slymm slink into view, and then Bear lumbers out into the open. They're for the Old Man. Coyote will be happy to see them.

I'm not pissed at him. I'm not. After I'm finished here I'm gonna go get my family. And then I'm gonna make sure they never, _ever_ ditch me again. Coyote's never had a real family before, so I don't expect him to understand, but Dad and Sam oughta know better.

We can make a home in the world, but first I have to get rid of the old one. My family will never be safe here. _Never._

Not unless I clear the planet.

Humans are dangerous. They need to be controlled.

I remember the bitches in high school who turned their noses up at me. The kids who bullied Sam and me because wore faded jeans, secondhand clothes, book bags and work boots.

I remember the dirty looks my family always got. From the cops, the landlords, from people in general. _Not our kind. Move on._ The crappy, dingy places we lived in. Not having enough to eat sometimes, when the credit cards went south and Dad couldn't find work when he wasn't hunting.

I put on a good front. I smiled and pretended nothing mattered, that I didn't give a damn about anything, but I couldn't trust people. I paid for it when I did. I told Cassie that I loved her. I opened up, told her about the family business. She told me to get the hell away from her. When she needed me I came back, and I hated myself for being so damn weak.

I learned my lesson, all right. We tried to help people, and most of the time they either called the cops on us or they wouldn't listen to us, even when they saw the darkness had teeth, even when they were ripped apart and screaming. Me and my family bled for those sonsofbitches. We bled and broke and damn near died, over and over again. And for _what_?

I can remake the world. Make it over the way it should have been in the first place. I can make the people and places my family needs.

I can control everything. I can keep my family safe.

Mom and Dad can have a home, they can have the life they were cheated out of. Sammy can go back to school if he wants. Coyote can live relaxed and easy, no worries.

That's all that matters, right? What's the sense of having all this mojo if I can't use it to make my family happy?

Mom, Jessica and the rest fade out. I've got work to do.

My eyes spark dark yellow. A few feet away the air churns and boils as I pull Gaia through. She was half a world away, _someplace_, _somewhen_ else. Gaia kicks and screams at me. Her feet leave the ground as I drag her up the wall and pin her on the ceiling.

I wink at her as I clamp her mouth shut for good. "Best seat in the house, sweetheart. Don't want you to miss a thing."

Fluttering behind me. Bird wings. Someone's coming…

It's Raven. Feathered fuck has more guts than I gave him credit for. He makes the air ink black all around me as he slashes at my face and skin. His left wingtip brushes against the right side of my face, and he laughs as he cuts me right down to the bone. I heal up right away.

Raven takes another swipe at me.

Bored now. I harden the air around me. Bird bones are hollow and easy to break, even if they belong to a trickster. Birds lose arguments with metal planes all the time. Raven's no different, even if he thinks he is. The next time he hits me his left wing breaks off at the shoulder.

Raven screams. I step into him and we're standing there in each other's personal space.

"Aaaaaaawwwwwkkkkkkk….aaaawwwkkkkk-"

I've got my hand wrist deep inside his chest, my fingers twined around his still beating heart.

"There's more than one way to pluck a pigeon," I smirk at him. "But I guess you already know that, huh?"

My eyes flare dark gold and a thin sheet of flame flows down my arm into his body. Raven blows apart in a cloud of flaming black feathers, muck, and yellow bone.

I turn towards Gaia, and she stares at me, silent, wide-eyed. I know the look. _I don't understand it. You were supposed to die. You, not me._

Yeah, I get that a lot. The sooner I finish here, the sooner I can find my family.

The sky overhead darkens. The wind picks up. Heat rolls off my skin in a wave that turns the air around me dark yellow. All I can hear is the roar of the flames, the thunder of my two hearts. My power's coiled inside me. I turn my face to the sky, raise my arms, and sing out.

I howl to my family, loud and joyous.

_For you…I'm doing this all for you…_

I know they can hear me, wherever they are.

I call out to my family, but it's also a warning to the Others, to the Ones who fled to other times, other places.

_My place. Mine. _

Another heartbeat, and I let it all go. I set the air on fire. Everything burns.

Gaia and I don't. I want her to see this. I meant what I said about her having the best seat in the house. SHe can watch her precious earth die. When it goes, so does she.

Half the world dies asleep in their beds. The rest see what looks like a second sunrise. I can sense them, millions of them on the day side, going outside, looking up, wondering what the hell is going on. The dark clouds and the fire in the sky stretches from horizon to horizon, take on the shape of a gigantic coyote, head tilted towards the stars, that cavernous open mouth lit by flashes of lightning.

The last thing they hear is my voice before the flames sweep over them.

When I'm done the earth is covered by a layer of black and grey ash two inches deep. I smell ozone, a sharp smell like chlorine.

There's no life anywhere. It's a good start.

My family's safe now. I did what I had to do.

Gaia's dead. I can't sense anything from her. When I turn around I see that she's still pinned to that wall behind me. What's left of her is a blackened shell, the arms drawn up to her chest like a boxer. That's standard for a burn victim.

Something shifts behind my eyes.

_(...no...oh no...)_

I blink, and her skin turns pale. Her blonde hair is fanned out against the wall. She has on a white nightgown and there's so much blood around her middle-

"No," I whisper out loud. "M-Mom?"

Can't be her. It can't be. Not now. Not here...

I never told Dad what I saw that night. I never did, but I saw her. I saw her pinned to the ceiling. Pinned to the ceiling and bleeding…

My knees shake. I feel so small and weak, like I'm four all over again, just like I was that night.

"This isn't real," I hear myself say out loud. I blink, and there's Gaia.

Another blink, and there's Mom.

Why's she up there? Why's she-

Her eyes are sunken, and she looks so sad. I wasn't sure if she saw me back then, but I think she did. She sees me now. I know she does.

A single tear runs down Mom's cheek.

I smell the smoke in the air, the ozone. I look around at the dead earth and it's like my eyes have been opened. I look down and I can see myself, the human inside the power. I can't breathe. My hands shake like an old man's.

_Dean?_ Mom whispers to me. _What did you do?_

I killed Gordon. I killed those people at the mall.

I killed everyone. _Everywhere._

"Oh God, what did I do?"

They're gone. Everyone's gone.

"What-what have I done-"

I fall to my hands and knees. My heart beats so hard and so fast my chest hurts. I look down at my hands, and there's black and grey ash between my fingers, and I know it's human ash.

I shake my head from side to side, like I can will this all away, make it right somehow.

I can't.

"No. NOOOOOOOO -"

* * *

**_A/N:_ **Uh huh. So you thought Sam, John and Coyote would stop Dean, huh? That's not how we roll in this 'verse. Don't you know me by now?

I always figured that Dean has, a greater capacity for evil than Sam does. Poor Sammy was pushed along that road by the YED, what with the demon blood and all. Dean had normal for four years, and then it was taken from him. He's got to have the rage of a four year old inside him. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned or a wounded child.

See ya next week.


	22. family matters

_**A/N: **_I planned on posting this chapter yesterday. My internet connection went out. We've had temps here in the 100s (106 Saturday) for the past week, so I guess the electric fan in my internet provider's computer room finally conked out. Notice I said electric fan and not A/C. Have I mentioned I hate my internet provider? I do. This chapter's title wasn't taken from the sitcom of the same name; it was just one that fits the best. Sorry, Urkel.

Cover image for this story was created by SaintsGhost. Hah, you thought I forgot about it, didn't you? I'm glad I can use it now!

* * *

_**POV: Coyote**_

_**Chapter 22 –family matters**_

_(…can't live like this…can't…)_

'm sorry, kid. I really am.

I'm takin' a big chance stayin' linked to Dean like this.

I've never been alone in my head before, not even when we were One back in the day. . He was my human half, the part that I used when I went tricky and two-legged. Now we share the same headspace, and he's drivin', but I'm better at shielding myself than Dean is, most of the time, except when I'm sleeping. Lines get a little blurred between us then. I can hear that that metal music the kid likes (and I don't), see fantasies about half naked female lifeguards. Sometimes I can't tell where my pup ends and I begin. I dreamt about apple pie all night long once, and when I woke up I wondered what the hell was going on. I mean, I like pie but I'm not a fanatic about it. Turns out that wasn't me, that was Dean.

Can't afford to have that happen now. We're hiding out in a place one step away from his reality, but if he tracks the link back to me and John and Sam, we're done. Dean won't be able to stop himself. I know he won't, and I know that better than anyone out here. When I was two hearted I hurt and killed people I liked, people I loved, and I didn't hesitate.

People don't notice the beat of their heart, except when they're scared or riled up, either in a good or bad way. A person's passion is in the heart. Now imagine how it would be if you had two of them, pumping lightning through your veins, filling your head with thunder. Every inch of your skin sings with power. All's right with the world, because you're bigger than the world, and you can do anything you damn well please.

"We gotta go back, y'hear me? We gotta go back!"

The sound of flesh hitting flesh makes my ears go straight up. I sit up and turn around.

Sam's fighting Dad.

Dad has both arms up, elbows together, in front of his face, like that Muhammad Ali fella I saw once on tv. I think they call that move the rope a dope? Rope something. Sam circles him, his chin thrust out, flicking blows at him. Dad moves with him, and he doesn't drop his guard. Sam's broadcasting power and rage and hurt and scared. I can feel it, and I know Dad can too. The ground shakes. Pebbles dance across the sandy soil.

I get up and stalk towards them. My lips are curled back from my teeth and I really feel like biting Sam on the ass.

In my mind's eye I can see Dean looking at himself in the glass. His power is all around him. Looks like a two legged 'yote. A big one.

Huh. I never did anything like that. He never learned that trick from me. Making that damn wall? Didn't get that from me, either.

I don't have much time.

First time I met Sam face to face, back in Vashon, Illinois, he shot me and Dean with that damn special Colt. Later on I told him to stop shooting his brother. While I was walled up inside Dean I heard the fights Sam had with his Dad. Sam got older and bigger and the fights got longer and louder. I remember how bad Dean felt when he heard them arguing.

Didn't get it at the time. Didn't care. My ass was walled up, remember? I wasn't happy that entire time.

Dean hated leaving them alone when they were at each other's throats. He was afraid they'd kill each other if he left them alone when they were like that. 'course, seeing as how Sam was the cause of me being walled up all that time, didn't break my heart any when he ran off to play normal at school. I like the kid now, but we don't have time for this drama.

Sam takes another swing at Dad. The old man blocks, sidesteps and drills Sam right in the face. Sam gets all wobbly. He swings blind and wide and John nails him again, right in the face. The kid's teke stutters, and Dad pops him again.

I perk my ears up, sit down and grin from ear to ear.

_Hmmm…Sam's gonna get his ass kicked!_

Yeah, 'm twisted that way, despite everything that's happening. My pup has gone insane with power, thanks to Raven and Gaia. We're hiding from him because he's pissed off that we left him, and doomsday is minutes away. Right this moment, none of that matters.

Should have known Dad wasn't gonna be anybody's punching bag for long. He grabs Sam from behind in a bear hug, holds him tight and kicks the kid's legs out from underneath him. When they hit the ground Sam's practically sitting in John's lap. Sam's dazed but he's still struggling. He jerks his head backwards, tries to hit Dad in the face. I hear Dad grunt, but he doesn't let go.

"SAM! STOP IT, Y'HEAR?" John roars. That's not his command voice, but Sam stops moving anyway.

"Dad…we gotta go back." Sam slumps forward. He shakes his head from side to side. "Dean needs us. We gotta go back…"

"Sam, we can't handle Dean head on. We gotta regroup, come up with a plan."

Sam blinks. "Can't-can't handle him? What the hell are you saying? You sound like we're gonna hunt Dean now-"

"That's not what I meant. Don't put damn words in my mouth!"

Sam strains against Dad's hold. "What else is there, Dad? Dean's a fugly now, is that it?"

John tightens his grip. "Damn it, Sam! Listen to me! Dean's not right, and you know it! You saw what he was like, what he did to Gordon Walker. He tried to hurt us when we left." Sam shakes his head _no_ over and over again, like he wants to deny what he saw and felt, but he can't.

"He did, son. You felt it, We all did. Dean tried to hurt us, through the link. He didn't want us to leave."

"Dad, we can't just leave him-"

"We won't. It's not his fault. None of this is, but we can't go back just yet. We've gotta be smart about this, Sam. We're not gonna desert Dean, but there's gotta be another way. He's way out of our pay grade."

Sam closes his eyes and slumps forward wearily in Dad's arms.

_(…suicide by cop…)_

The human part of Dean tries to stop himself. I see the SWAT men die, just like I knew they would.

And then Dean turns on the good part of himself.

I hear his howl, loud and triumphant. _I'm still standing, bitches. Who's next?_

Dean's power builds. The earth stops turning. The clouds hang motionless in the sky. Humans don't notice. And even if they did, they couldn't do anything anyway. It's too late.

The Others notice.

Angels race through the skies, demons leave their vessels, turn to smoke and dive back into the ground. The gates of Heaven and Hell slam shut. That's a first.

Wind and cloud Elementals slip into other dimensions. The Others either run or try to shield themselves as best they can. Not all of them can leave earth, and the ones who can't travel like that sink deep beneath the oceans, burrow into mountainsides to ride out the storm. Won't do them any good, but they do it anyway. Nobody wants to be caught out in the open when Dean comes into his own.

I cast my senses out towards the Two Dogs homestead in New Mexico. Bear and Bertha are already gone. I shoulda known better. Kachinas can sense when things aren't right in Nature. Bear scooped up my human daughter and headed out for parts unknown, to another reality.

I owe the big lug for that.

_For you__, Dean sings__. 'm doing this all for you…_

Dad and Sam freeze, startled. They heard that. I know they did.

Time's run out.

Thomas is already dead. He's ashes blowing in the wind. The state of New Mexico burns, then Arizona and beyond.

I turn in a tight circle and fade out. Hendrickson's still spread-eagled out on the ground behind them, so Sam and John don't see when he fades out too. I don't 'port him back to the mall. No point. He's dead wherever I put him. I dump him back into his office, right into his big leather chair. I unfreeze him as soon as his ass hits the cushion.

Dean's howl shakes the building and the earth.

The fed turns, looks out the window just as Dean's light fills the sky.

"Oh shit-" Hendrickson mutters, and then he and the city are swept away.

I slip into the Underworld just as the world dies. I gotta cover all bases just in case.

The first wave of newly dead haven't arrived yet, but they will soon. The older spirits are restless, and the air is filled with wailing and shouting. Masaw and his people have their hands full keeping order. Sure, I'm the intermediary animal between the livin' and the dead, and as Guardian Masaw doesn't do everything I ask him to. Sometimes the answer is _No._

'm not takin' no for an answer this time.

Some of the reapers mumble curse words under their breath. Masaw gives me a dirty look when I walk up to him. "Shouldn't you be topside, Old Man?"

"When my kid comes down here, I want everyone to stay outta his way."

Masaw huffs. "When he comes down here? Why would he-"

I bare my teeth at him. "He's gonna do something stupid -"

"Uh, it's a little late for that, Old Man."

That does it. I see red. I go two legged and furry in a heartbeat, all muscle, teeth and claws. Masaw's in his human form, six feet six, but I'm twelve feet tall.

"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" I roar, and the entire Underworld goes quiet.

Masaw stiffens his back. He doesn't like my tone or the way I 'm acting. I don't give a damn.

"Dean might come down here because he thinks he oughta be punished for what he did. If he does, _when_ he does, I'll come for him."

"I don't want him down here-"

"Do you really wanna piss me off?" I loom over Masaw, and my claws and teeth grow longer. "I'm not _asking_ you. I'm _telling_ you. Don't block him from coming down here. Leave him to me."

Masaw looks me in the eyes and nods at me, and that nod tells me that I'm gonna pay for the way I'm acting.

I don't doubt that one bit.

I turn away from him and go back to my family.

John and Sam are on their feet now. I feel their headaches, bruises and scratches. They see me come back, and I don't say a word. I walk around them, brush up against their legs, and I take their physical pain away. Can't do a damned thing about their angst.

And then I 'port us back to Dean.

I knew it would look bad from a distance. It's even worse close up.

The sky overhead is a weird burnt copper color, like dirty pennies. Not a cloud in the sky. There's no air left. I create a bubble around us, a slight shimmer of yellow light. Sam and Dad don't seem to notice.

The ground underfoot is black ash. The grey ash is human. The landscape is flat. I mean, flat as a pancake, from horizon to horizon. The only thing standing is a section of wall several feet away. It's what's left of that damned mall place.

Dad takes one look and stops short. "Jesus Christ."

"Oh my God," Sam whispers.

John and Sam get it. They've seen this before, seen the women they loved burning like candles in the same pose. Mary Winchester years ago, Jessica Moore later.

I recognize the body stuck up there. Gaia. She's seen better days. She's charred black from head to toe, and I just can't bring myself to care about the bitch.

Dean's here.

He sits on the ground, with his back against the wall. My kid looks like a statue, pale, perfect. I can't even tell if he's breathing, but I know he's alive. He doesn't even blink. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares into the distance. They're dull green, washed out almost to grey. No hint of power in 'em.

The color and the way his eyes are half open like that bothers the hell outta me.

Sam and Dad stop behind me.

_Niño? _I send out the thought soft and gentle.

The word comes bouncing right back at me.

_Damn._ I lay my ears back.

"What?" Sam says.

"He's put a wall up. "

"A wall?"

"Yeah. I dunno where he got that damn trick from. Didn't get it from me."

That pisses me off. I can't bite this. I feel like unloading on somebody, and there's no one around. Gaia the Crispy Critter doesn't even count. Not anymore.

The ash underneath his feet crunches as Dad walks forward. He doesn't even hesitate. He goes over to Dean, puts himself right in Dean's line of sight, kneels down and takes Dean's right hand in his.

Dean doesn't react. He's a lifesized doll. His arm moves limply, and only because John moved him. Dad puts his other hand on top of Dean's.

"D-Dad?" Sam sounds uncertain.

"It's okay," Dad says. He never takes his eyes off Dean. Dean stares at him, through him, and the skin around John's eyes crinkles. He even smiles a little, and I know he's doing this all for Dean's benefit.

Sam walks over. He crouches down directly in front of his brother, balances himself easily on the balls of his feet.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says softly.

Dean doesn't blink. Not even when Sam reaches out and gently puts his hand on his knee.

I circle around and stand next to my kid. I stand up, put my forepaws on his shoulder and huff into his ear.

I half expect him to turn, look at me and scowl. "Hey, watch it, Fuzzy. Do we really need to have that conversation about personal space again?"

Nothing.

Okay. I back off and move next to Sam. I put my paw on Dean's leg.

Yeah, it's a chick flick moment all right, but there's nothing else we can do.

"We're here, Dean. We're back." John says out loud.

_Old Man?_

That's Dad. Inside my head. I open the link so Sam can hear.

_Yeah?_

_Can you force your way in?_

_Sure I can. And turn his brain into cottage cheese when I do. _

Sam thinks, _We have to wait him out._

_You got 22 years to wait? Not a good idea. He walled me up that long, remember?_

I cock my head to one side. Images flash behind my eyes, and I let it go out through the link. We see it over and over again, a sheet of flame, Dean's fire, covering the planet, human candles dancing and jittering in the streets and in the houses. Sam and Dad watch silently, but they don't draw back from Dean. What they see doesn't make them hate him. Or fear him.

_I can't tell if he knows we're out here, _I tell them._ When I was walled up I could hear through the wall. _

Sam nods as he leans forward. "Dean? Listen to me. I'm not leaving you. I know you think we should ditch you." Sam even manages to laugh. He sounds genuine, relaxed. Dean doesn't move a muscle. "Yeah, you're that damn obvious. Dude, we're not going anywhere. None of us are."

"I know you can hear me, son," Dad says slowly. The look he gives our boy is warm and fond. "I didn't think…I didn't know that you saw your mom that night. Should have known by the way you went silent."

Dad flicks a glance at me. I can't tell anything, but we can't stop now. This is like tossing rocks into a fogbank.

"Keep talkin' " I mutter out loud.

John tightens his grip on Dean's hand. "We're here, Dean. We're here."

The wind picks up. Dust and ash and grit rise into the air.

My eyes narrow. 'm not doin' this. Neither is Sam.

And it's _not_ Dean.

I turn and look behind us. The sky is filled with boiling dark clouds and bright ruby red lights.

John turns and scowls. "What the hell is that?"

"Nosy bastards. Tourists." My hackles rise up.

I bare my teeth as I turn away from my people. I go two legged again. My shield gets stronger; the air above and around us blazes golden yellow.

"Stay with Dean. I got this." I don't turn around. My ears and tail twitch as I imagine ripping into the first fool stupid enough to make a move on us.

Sam's teke flares up all around him. "Who are they?"

I stare at the lights. I show my teeth and claws and my power, bright and fierce and totally pissed off. Said all along I felt like unloading on some damn fool, right? Seems like somebody out there was listening.

"They're not from around here," I tell my family. "Nature hates empty spaces, and they want to fill this one."

* * *

Next: Dean mets the new folks in town. TBC this week.


	23. they were, they are & they shall ever be

_**A/N: **_Title for this chapter inspired by "They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be", an episode from the classic tv show, _Kolchak: The Night Stalker_, starring Darren McGavin.

* * *

_**Chapter 23 – they were, they are and they shall ever be**_

No…go away…(_Niño?_) Dad, please ("I know you can hear me, son…") let go, please let go ("…we're not going anywhere…none of us are…") Sammy, Stop looking at me like that. Stop it ("…we're here, Dean, we're here…") The Old Man's breath on my ear, his paw on my leg-

DAMN IT, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!

The ground underneath me's hard as a rock. Don't have to close my eyes, but I do anyway. It's pitch dark in here. I'm curled up on my side I put this wall up around me but I can't block out the sound, I can't-

/bright/boy/

Just what I deserve…killed her (shut up) I killed her (just what I deserve) hearts beating real fast two hearts not one and I laughed and I howled (I am I am I am I am) and I sang (burn 'em, burn 'em all I'm doing this for you uswebloodfamily all for you) everything everywhere grass trees desert sky rock wood metal and flesh birds in the sky fell like warm rain to the ground

_/Deannnnn/_

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin that Lucas Barr kid saved him before not this time ("I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.") he was swimming with his momma Andrea on the shore water burned like gasoline and oil burned 'em both, burned them all get rid of it, get rid of it all block by block inch by inch (yes, I'm let loose from the noose that's kept me hanging about)

_/Beautiful/_

Ellen looked out the window at the Roadhouse knew she knew looked up at the sky and she knew "Damn you, Dean damn you to hell-" burned her right up kids playing on the playground families sitting down to dinner father and son watching baseball game all the stuff I didn't have never meant to have family's not safe until they're all gone (too daze gone I'm broke down insufferable my mind is on the blink it's later than you think and I'm too daze gone)

_/just/what/we/need/just/what/we/want/_

every last damn one bobby was out in the yard working on a truck he heard me howl and he looked up sky was on fire I sang the fire down to the ground and I heard him say "Dean what are you d-" and then he was gone grey ash in the wind and I was happy I was happy and I killed him I killed them all all of 'em everyone everywhere killed her killed Mom (…sorry…) stuck her to the wall (…please, Momma…) dragged her up onto the ceiling (…'m so damn sorry…) burned her…

_/so/much/sadness/_

shut up

_/pretty/so/pretty/_

shut up

_/space/inside/lots/of space/_

SHUT THE HELL UP!

Quiet. Everything goes quiet.

My face feels wet. I reach up and wipe at my eyes and my hands shake.

_/we/could/really/use/a/hound/like/you/ _

Voices. A lot of them, whispering into my right ear.

I jerk forward and open my eyes.

The dude in black behind the bar smiles, then he winks. He waggles the glass in his hand at me. "You take your Jack straight, don't you?"

What the hell?

I look down at myself. I've still got my duster on, collar flipped up just the way I like it. Boots, faded jeans, black tee. I'm sitting down.

Sitting on a barstool. In a bar. Somewhere.

The place looks rich and expensive, with hardwood tables and chairs, framed paintings on the walls, and burgundy wall to wall carpeting. It's big too, bigger than any bar I've ever been in, anywhere. Looks like the bar in a high end luxury hotel.

"We've got beer too. On tap. The good domestic stuff, with a nice thick head, not that imported crap." The barkeep's grinning at me from ear to ear, like we're such good damn friends. I know he's never seen me before, but I've seen that face before.

He looks like Al Pacino in _The Devil's Advocate._ I remember that movie. 1997. I was laid up with a broken leg in this low-rent motel near Atlanta, Georgia. Sam was pissed off because Dad left us there on a hunt, so we got on each other's nerves big time. I wanted to go hunt with Dad, and Sam was bitchface 'cause I got hurt in the first place. Wasn't anybody's fault that other fugly bounced me off that brick wall like I was a tennis ball. After three days in that crap motel room, I needed some air, needed to get the hell out, so I picked up my crutches and limped out the door. Sam followed me. There was this skeezy movie theater down the street, so I headed there. Sammy followed me in, bitching every step of the way.

The movie was okay, but we saw the end coming from a mile away. Most of the women in that flick were hot, though.

Doesn't matter, 'cause they're all dead now. Because of me.

"Well, kid?"

"Well _what_?"

"Beer or Jack? Johnny Walker, Black or Blue Label. We got Josè, too. Whatever you like. Your choice. "

"Surprise me."

"Okay." He stares at my face and then shrugs. "You look like a Jack Daniels, Black Label kinda guy."

He puts a coaster down in front of me and puts the glass on top of that. I stare at him as he pours two fingers of whiskey. There's something in the air around him. It's like his shadow is ten or fifteen seconds behind him. Multiple images, each one flickering into the other. I catch glimpses of ruby red light where the eyes would be. I cock my head to one side slightly, at the sound of voices, faint at first, and then the noise gets louder, like somebody turned up reality's volume knob. Shadow people blink into view all around me, women, men, children, judging from the sizes and shapes, and the shadows have shadows, more than one bleeding into the air behind and around them as they move. It's a pretty good special effect, something Spielberg or Lucas would do.

I lean forward, put both elbows on the bar. I don't give the glass in front of me a second glance. No way in hell I'm drinkin' _that_.

This isn't coming from me. Why would it? These bastards are inside my head. They got in past my wall. Even the Old Man couldn't get in, not unless I let him. How the hell did they-

Something soft and furry nudges against my ankle. I look down at my feet and there's a coyote pup, with dark blonde fur. It's a young one, but it's the size of a large German Shepherd. Those big ears twitch as he looks up at me and grins, tongue hanging out, looking kinda shy and guilty, like I caught him doing something wrong. Those wide green eyes spark gold.

Dumbass. He's my power. The pup looks up at me, whines, and nudges my leg with his nose. I get it then. _He_ let them in.

I scowl at him, and he drops his head like I scolded him. Even with everything's that's happened, I can't blame him for any of this. Can't blame Raven or Gaia either. What happened is my weight. All mine.

"Oh, don't be so hard on the little fella," the Al Pacino wannabe says. "He just wants to live a little, Dean. You don't mind if I call you Dean, do you?"

"Now I guess this is the part where I ask a question. What the hell are you?"

I hear faint laughter all around me, like they're all so damn amused.

"Who are _we_? Who are _you_?"

I run my index finger around the rim of the glass. Feels real enough.

"So you cut loose today. Went further than you thought you ever would. And you think it's a bad thing." He takes a breath, and the next thing I hear is my own voice coming out of his mouth: "The things I do, for you and Dad…they scare me sometimes."

We stare at each other hard for a moment.

"Who are we? We're your new best friends, and we don't think what you did today was bad. Not at all."

_Let him talk,_ I think to myself. _Let the bastard run off at the mouth…_

"The question we have to ask is, why should you be afraid of your true nature? Why should you hide your light underneath a barrel? The fact is, this tired old world reached its expiration date. Something big happened, and that something is _you_. It's karma. It's destiny, every step of the way. Everything that's happened led you right here, to this moment. Think about it. Think about the life you led before you figured out what you really were. The people your family tried to help. The thanks you _didn't_ get. Living in those skeezy motels, hustling pool, taking lousy back breaking jobs to make ends meet when the credit cards went bad. Hard beds, hard life, eating food day after day that was so bad a dog would puke. Getting picked up by the cops, run out of town over and over." His voice changes again, and I recognize the voice. Sheriff John Milton. Hapsberg, Oregon. "Not our kind, boy. Move on!"

He stops and stares at me, they all do. Every pair of eyes in the place is on me. I don't say anything, and that must be the signal he needs to keep on talking. "All that time you knew deep down inside you were meant for more than that. Your mom—"

_Oh no, you bastard._ I growl at him, and the walls shake.

He steps back from the bar, raises his arms up, palms out. "We mention her with all due respect, okay? No offense."

I don't move a muscle.

"Your mom. Nobody showed up that night to help her, now did they? You were little. Ol' Yeller would have scragged you and the Old Man and laughed about it. Remember what she used to tell you as a kid? Angels were watching over you. Yeah, they were. Sitting on their asses and watching was all those feathered fucks were doing."

I sound calmer than I feel. And bored. Kinda proud of that. "Are you the Devil? Is _that_ what this is?"

"_Us?_ Oh no. Satan's scared of you, kiddo. He's hunkered down in hell right now, got those gates locked tight. He's actually hoping you _don't_ decide to pay him a visit." The bartender rolls his eyes heavenward. "Same thing goes for the Big Guy upstairs."

All this dancing around is pissing me off. That's what this is. I'm being invited to the dance. They're making an offer they figure I won't refuse. I've seen it before, when I went with Dad to do business with other hunters. Hell, I've had invites myself. "Tell you what, Winchester, we got other plans. You want in, or not?" Human or fugly, it's the same old, same old.

I deliberately make my voice lower and deeper. I push power behind it. _"What. The. Hell. Are. You?"_

That question gets me a formal bow like an English butler in one of those movies Sam likes to watch. "Where are our manners? Please forgive us. We failed at a proper introduction. _Nos erant, nos es, quod nos vadum umquam exsisto."_

Latin. "We were, we are, and we shall ever be," I say out loud.

The barkeep's face lights up. There's way too many teeth in that grin. "An educated man. See, we like that! We've got so many names. Sometimes it's hard to keep track. Here's another one. _Infinitas infinitio. _"

_The Endless._ I've heard of them, saw mentions in some of Bobby's books. Wherever they show up, there's always wholesale death and destruction. Rumor has it they were the real reason Roanoke vanished and the Mayans went down. They've slaughtered towns, cities, countries. Nobody's sure what they are, or where they come from. Now I've got a firsthand chance to find out. Lucky me.

I pick up the glass, swirl the Jack around slowly. "Let me guess. You're not from around here, are you? You drop by, raise a little hell, and then leave."

_/so/sweet/_

"You know what? We think that a relationship should be built on trust, and I'm just not getting a feeling of trust from you right now, Dean. We got all this from you, you know. Thought it would make you feel more comfortable." He raises both arms wide. "What you don't like it? That's our bad. How about _this_?"

I don't even blink, and the bastard morphs into Jack Nicholson. First Nicholson in purple and green as the Joker from the first _Batman_, with Michael Keaton. He looks at me and cackles like a damn hyena. That lasts for a couple of seconds, and then the bartender changes again, into the way Nicholson looked in _The Shining_. Hair pulled back from his face, brown cardigan sweater, a too wide grin plastered on his face. His eyes are really bright. "How's this? Will talking to your main man Jack ease things?"

I don't need this as a reminder. Ol' Jack bought the farm because of me too. I put the glass down with a too hard thump.

"Now, what are we? We're a community. A family, you could say. Like spirits. Like minds. See, we're always on the lookout for talent, buddy boy. New blood. We were on the other side of Creation, and you lit the sky up brighter than all the suns combined. Figured we'd come over here and take a look-see, that's all."

/we/like/you/Dean/we/really/really/like/you/

"Now you can't undo this. Not gonna lie to you. You killed the earth, after all. This is too big, and you know it. But we think you have more options than you realize. Can't go to a crossroads. Not anymore. Hell won't let you in. Heaven? Not likely. And you gotta know Coyote already put the bad word on you if you decide to go to the Underworld. You're in a class by yourself."

"Why me? Why not the Old Man?"

"Well, he's too set in his ways."

I don't say anything. _Or you think I'm easier to control._

"Control?" The bartender says. "No, that's not it."

"You inside my head now?"

"No. You're just that obvious, is all. We don't want to hold you back. We want you to be as God intended you to be. Be all that you _can_ be. You feel bad about killing the earth, but isn't that guilt a waste of time? All that sadness? All that guilt? Your family was shafted from day one. The world just had it coming, that's all. No great loss there. There are millions of worlds just like this one that need to be cleansed. You can travel with us. See the sights. We can arrange it so you can forget the bad things, remember only the good. And it did feel good, didn't it? It felt good to unload, not to hold back. Made your hearts and your skin sing, didn't it?"

"That's _it_?" I smirk at him. "_That's_ your pitch?"

"Well, yeah," The dude says lamely.

"I've had _better_. _Heard_ better." I shake my head. "Not interested. Move on."

I look down at my right hand. My silver ring catches the light from the overheads, but there's something else. I feel a pulse against my skin. A heartbeat, steady, solid. Fingers gripping my hand, and I can't see anything.

_Sam? Old Man?_

Dad.

_Don't know why they're just waiting there. _

Coyote.

I can feel Sam's bitchface. His teke. _We won't let them. _Kid sounds grim._  
_

I see the sky overhead, thick with boiling black clouds, ruby red lights. My body sits there, with my back against the wall, just the way I left it. Dad kneels beside me. He never let go of my hand. Sam and Coyote stand a few feet away, staring up at the sky. The air over my family glows. They're covered by a dome of yellow light.

I don't look at Gaia on the wall. I can't.

One of the clouds comes down hard and fast, like a snake uncoiling in a strike. The shield vibrates, but it holds.

That does it. _"Sonofabitch!"_ My voice makes the glass behind the bar shake.

The bartender sighs, and the sound echoes through the room, all surprised and sad.

_/we're/really/really/sorry/you/did/that/_

My power raises up and scrambles up my legs, my stomach and chest. The look the pup gives me is wide-eyed and totally freaked out as he dives into my chest. My eyes glow. My body tingles from head to toe and I've got just enough time to think _Didn't work out the way you thought it would, huh?_ before I'm grabbed from behind by all the shadows in the room. They've got me by my arms, my neck and legs. Christ, feels like a mountainside pressing down on top of me. They push into my skin, and my head fills with the roar of all those voices. I get slammed forward into the edge of the bar so hard my jaws snap shut. I nearly bite off the tip of my tongue.

_/inside/want/inside/want/this/want/you/why/can't/you/be nice/_

I see it now. Once they get inside me my body will open its eyes. I won't be driving.

Dad will die first. Then Sam. Then the Old Man.

Then the shield will go down, and they'll walk my meatsuit out to join with the Endless. I'll be gone, and so will my family.

Jack looks sad. "Why couldn't you be nice?"

Inside...they're pushing inside me...

The air around me fills with long streams of black smoke that curls over my skin and my clothes. The bones in my back crack as they press into me from behind. My hands turn dark purplish, like I bruised myself really bad. I can tell my skin looks like this all over, and for some reason that makes me laugh. Yeah, I'm twisted that way.

I'm not going to survive this. I know I'm not, and I don't care, either. That's the way I want it.

The things I do for my family…well, I'm not scared of _that_ anymore.

"You sonsofbitches want what's inside of me?" My eyes blaze yellow. "Here. Have at it."

I yank at all the power I can feel. Everything goes yellow, and then white. My heart stutters, and then stops. I can't catch my breath, but it's all right. Why shouldn't it be? The ties to my physical body unravel, one by one. This feels like dying. No big deal. I've done this before. Last time pays for all.

I can still feel Dad's hand pressed against my skin, his fingers gripping my hand, firm and tight.

_I'm sorry,_ I want to tell him. _Sorry for what I did. Sorry for what I put you guys through..._

Maybe it's my imagination. A trick for a trickster, my brain and nerve endings firing up for the last time. One last illusion to check out with, something to give comfort as I leave this life. If that's what this is, comfort, that's something I don't need. Or deserve.

I hear Dad whisper.

_Stay with me, Dean. Y'hear me? That's an order, son._

The Endless shrieks, but I yell even louder, and the sounds follow us all down into the dark.

* * *

Other pop culture references:

The hotel bar is The Gold Room from _The Shining_.

Sheriff John Milton - that's also the name of Al Pacino's character in _The Devil's Advocate_.

TBC next Saturday, earlier if RL permits.


	24. falling down

_**Chapter 24 – falling down **_

_**POV:**_ Coyote

…_sorry…_

"Dean?" Sam whispers out loud, and that's when I know he hears it too.

…_sorry for what I did…_

_Niño?_

Sam and I turn around at the same time.

…_sorry for what I put you guys through…_

Dean's wall comes crumbling down. The link inside our heads opens up so loud and so fast it hurts, yellow light bright and fierce, a sharp ice pick right between our eyes, but I don't feel the pain, I don't think any of us do, all I can hear is Dean yelling, and he's _madscaredsad_, and Dad's yelling at him, out loud and with his thoughts "Dean? You're not leaving us, you hear me, you're not dying—"

My kid falls into the darkness, and those shadow bastards (_/let/go/let/us/go/let/us/go/) _bite and snap at him. All that does is make him growl (_'m takin' you sonsofbitches with me_).

First time I realize that he's not alone in there. Couldn't tell before 'cause of the damn wall. A part of the Endless got in there somehow (_sorryI'msorry_ Dean's power yips as it cowers inside him) and the ones outside with us crowd up against my shield, pushing and probing, mouths pressed wide as they try to push their way in. They lap at the solid air with pointed tongues, nip and gnaw, trying to find a weak spot, and I ignore their sorry asses. All I can see is Dean's face, skin so pale his freckles look like specks of beige paint scattered over white.

I can't tell (_Niño don't go listen to me don't go you're not leaving us Dean you're not you can't do this I'm not gonna let you do this stay here that's an order son y'hear me) _where any of us begin or end.

Sam reaches out with his teke, and he tries to grab him. We all do, Dad with his voice and his touch, me with my power. All I can do is dig in all four paws into that gritty dead black earth, lean back and pull.

Nothing we do or say does any good.

We can't hold him, and it doesn't matter, none of this does, because Dean shudders, his head rocks back and his eyes roll white. He's leaving, pulling the Endless down with him. There's the fading echo of his heartbeat as Dean lets out his last breath in a low, slow, almost lazy exhale.

I _knew_ he was going to do something stupid like this! _I knew it!_

_All right,_ Dad says. He sounds tired. Resigned, and I know what he's gonna say, I know what he's gonna do, even before he says it.

_You want to go? We're going with you._

_That's right._ Sam and I nod.

We hear a sound, a little stutter of surprise.

…_w-whu-what ? _

_That's right. We're coming with you._

_...nuh…no…_

_Sorry. We can't do that. _

…_let me go_…

_Not an option, kiddo. _

…_please…don't do this…_

_You go, we all go. Together. That's a fact._

Nothing changes.

I hear the rest of the Endless chitter as they gnaw and scratch at the shield behind me.

Dean's head jerks back. His eyes fly open. They're not moss green, but a blaze of dark and light gold.

"That's it. Come back home, son," Dad whispers.

He takes one long, slow breath that makes the air around him vibrate. At the same time his back arches and his arms and legs stiffen. His right arm jerks up, and his fingers tighten on John's hand, but Dad never lets go. His chest hitches, once, twice, but he's breathing.

He's back. Our boy is back.

Dean slumps forward into John's arms, his cheek against Dad's shoulder. His eyes are open, but he looks dazed. Held in John's arms like that Dean looks really young, despite the stubble and the leather.

"D-Dad?"

"Welcome back, princess."

Sam walks over and kneels down beside them. He doesn't hesitate; he puts both arms around his brother and his father.

Hey, it's a group hug, all right? It was manly. We don't do it all the damn time.

Dad's hand is broken. John doesn't flinch, and he doesn't pull away. He circles Dean's shoulders with his good arm. I reach out and gently loosen Dean's grip on him. I deaden the pain in Dad's hand and knit the bones back together.

I'm healing my family way too much, when I should be kicking somebody's ass.

A growl rumbles up my throat, and the sky overhead answers. I turn around and grin at the Endless, and the whole lot of them freeze. The surprised looks on all their faces would be comical if they weren't so damn ugly.

Bastards. I'm going to kill them all.

My hackles raise up, high and stiff. I push my way through the shield, and with each step I take I grow larger, hundreds, then thousands of feet tall in a heart beat. I howl the sky down, my mouth fills with thunder and lightning. I catch those ruby red soul lights between my teeth, and I rip and bite and tear.

ooo/ooo/no/nooo/noooo/nooooo/noooooooooooo/

They blow apart into a million pieces, bits of black stone that turns cold and grey as it falls on the dead earth like rain. I spit the fragments out and snag the cloud things in my mouth, and the damned things lighten and die, threads of lifeless grey smoke.

I'm not done yet.

I grow even larger, until my nose and ears just brush the boundary between the earth and the black beyond the sky. I rise up on my hind legs and snap at the line.

The Old Ones, what remains of the Endless, jerk back. They sent the young and the stupid ones in first.

Just a little more, and I could tear them up too.

They know damn well I can.

I show them my teeth, and then they slide away among the stars, blacker than black, in the opposite direction.

I turn away from them, towards my family.

The hug's over, but I don't mind that I missed it. Sam and Dad kneel on either side of Dean. He's sitting up now, with his back against the wall. I don't even glance at her remains, but I 'port Gaia's charred carcass deep into the ground. Nobody needs to see that anymore. Not that I mind seeing her like that, but she reminds

"I heard you," the kid says hoarsely.

John nods. "Figured something was going on inside you. Your skin got cold." He reaches out and brushes at Dean's forehead. Kid looks flushed, faded spots of color on both cheeks. "Looks like you're running a fever now."

"I-I don't -" Dean gasps. He puts his hand on his chest; his fingers shake.

Dean's eyes flash, and his power, still in the shape of an overgrown pup, clambers out of his chest. The pup runs past John and Sam without even a glance, and sidles up to me grinning, tail down and wagging, bouncing all around me, jumping up to lick at my chin.

_Sorry. I'm sorry. You're not mad at me, are ya? I'm sorry-_

I bare my teeth at him in a full-on gape, mouth wide open. That startles the hell out of him so much he closes his eyes, lays his ears back and bellyflops on the ground. I don't move away. I stand stiff-legged over him and I gape even wider. The pup cowers on its belly with its head tilted to one side. He doesn't open his eyes. He doesn't dare.

Thought I was that easy, huh? After all this? He thought wrong.

_Get back in there_, I tell him. _Go on. I'll deal with you later._ The pup scrambles to his feet, turns and runs at Dean. Dean's eyes spark yellow again as the pup dives back in, then fade back down to this tired looking grayish green color. Dean grimaces and rubs wearily at his chest. "Dude, gonna haveta stop doin' that, okay? Make up your damn mind. In or out."

"Kind of hard on the little fella, weren't you?" Sam says mildly.

"Not hard enough." I sit down at Dean's feet. "He got carried away. He'll learn."

My kid won't look us in the eyes. Never realized it before, but he doesn't wear shame well. He's ashamed of what he is, what he did, and I know he thinks he doesn't deserve being here, even though none of this would have happened if Raven and Gaia hadn't stuck their noses in our business.

"Tried to fix it," Dean says dully. He stretches out his right arm, his hand palm down, towards the ground.

Nothing happens.

Dean shakes his head in disgust. "Couldn't even do that right." He finally raises his eyes and looks at each one of us in turn, and the look he gives us is raw, open. "You should've let me go. This is my weight. I need to pay for this, and I can't."

"Not an option," Dad says quietly. "Not now, not ever."

"After what I tried to do to you?"

"Dude," John huffs. "That wasn't the first time I got a headache because of you."

Sam shrugs. "And you've always been a pain in the ass anyway."

I expect the kid to say something smartass, or at least roll his eyes. He doesn't. That wounded look of his doesn't waver as he looks at the dead earth all around us. "I killed Bobby. I killed Ellen…"

John nods. "I know."

"If I had to choose between you and the world…dude, that's no choice at all," Sam says gravely. "I chose you."

"You haven't been paying attention, have you? I can't fix this."

"Yeah, you can." I raise my left hindleg and idly scratch at this itchy spot on my neck. "You can hit the reset button and bring alla this back."

Just like that, the whole mood changes. All three heads snap in my direction.

"What?" Dad rumbles. "What did you say?"

"Umm…the reset button?" I don't like the way they're looking at me.

I can see the light bulb go off over Sam's head. "Wait a minute. Coyote does figure in Creation myths."

That makes me grin and stick my chest out. "Yep."

Sam's on a roll. He actually grins back at me. "He created Mankind by kicking around a ball of shit."

"Well, I don't like to brag," I say modestly. "Oh wait a minute. Yeah, I do."

All three of them stare at me like I've done something wrong.

"Hey, I destroyed the world once. Wasn't even trying to. Don't know why everyone got so upset. I put it back."

"And you were gonna tell us this when?" Dean grates out.

I don't know why they're looking at me like that, but it's making me nervous. I gnaw at the fur on my right shoulder. That's a little better.

"So you mean you can fix this," Dean says slowly.

"Me? Nope. _You_ broke it, _you_ fix it."

"I just said I tried and nothing happened."

"You gotta try harder," I mutter. I lay my ears back. _Damn_. It hits me then. The kid doesn't remember what we did when we were One. That's one of the things about him I just don't get, like him creating those damn walls, and 'throwing his pelt" with that duster of his.

Dean growls at me. The next thing I know he's up on his feet and he slams into me hard enough to knock me over on my back. He's on top of me and he's got me by the throat.

"Sonofabitch!" The kid yells. "I asked you to stop me. I begged you to! I killed everybody, and you didn't stop me! You were supposed to stop me!"

"Stop you?" I grin up at him. Big mistake. "Nah. You had to get that out of your system."

Bigger mistake. Dean growls again and slams my head back down on the ground hard, and that's when I realize I should have kept my big damn mouth shut.

* * *

TBC this week.


End file.
